


Operation S.L.E.E.P.

by SchmetterlingMaus



Category: Codename: Kids Next Door
Genre: Addiction, Bait, Dom/sub, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Multi, Nipple Play, Partial Mind Control, Thrall - Freeform, Vampire Bite, Virginity, sensual, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchmetterlingMaus/pseuds/SchmetterlingMaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Count Spankulot wants to extract revenge on the young, teenage Wallabee Beatles, while he's sleeping, but it proves difficult, because others also want Wally's time while he's asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Codename: KND is the property of Cartoon Network and I own none of the characters in this work.

Streetlamps dotted the sleeping, urban streets for blocks. The tree house stood far higher than the lights, leaving unaltered darkness, making the stars clear above and giving the streetlamps a star-like quality below. The only thing that moved within the tree was the leaves when the wind blew through in summer gusts. Unfortunately, for the Count, he couldn’t feel the heat. There was a few seconds of pleasure when the life of another rushed through his body, making his heart beat for a handful of seconds, a harsh reminder of the spark he’d loss in death.

There was a smell that lingered, domed within the leaves, which the wind couldn’t steal. It was the warm sugary sweet smell of fresh cotton candy, cookies, syrup and popped corn. Within that, he could smell the distinct scents of the individual operatives.

Somewhere far in the night, a siren blared and dogs barked, but the tree house was shadowy and silent. He crawled from limb to limb. The branches didn’t bend under his weight, gravity didn’t touch him. He came to the open windowsill with the faded galaxy curtains framing the window within the room.

His fingers curled over the smooth wood, and he peered inside the vast private quarters of the operative he’d always known as Numbuh Four. He only recently started mentally calling the teenager by his given name, Wally. He rose, leaning into the room. The curtains brushed against his crisp, white shirt.

There was no warning, no knock. The door flew open and the light switched on, forcing him to withdraw below the windowsill. 

oOo

“Come-on Numbuh Three, you can’t practice kissing on the back of your hand, it’s not going to teach you anything. You need a practice dummy that kisses back,” Abby said. She picked her way across the disaster of a room, dodging the larger piles of Wally’s stuff, which included hockey sticks, football equipment and toppled towers of comic books. Nothing had changed since elementary.

Kuki stood in the doorway in her white Rainbow Monkey tee-shirt and little blue shorts that made her legs long and thin. Wispy black strands of hair fell into her face from her high ponytail. Her round, dark eyes glanced around the room uncertain. “But Wally? It’s awkward. He’s so… so… you know, Wally!”

Abby laughed, already standing by the bed in red shorts, equally short to what Kuki wore, and a red tank top. Her hat sat low on her head and her hair was loose from its signature braid. To make a point, she picked Wally’s limp wrist up and let it drop. “He’s practically dead to the world. He won’t wake up.”

The little display did nothing for Kuki’s nerves as she slid into the room, hopping over the obstacle course of boy junk; sports magazines and dirty laundry. Superhero sheets were stretched over the single bed, and the matching comforter had been kicked down over the side. Wally wore long, aqua blue sleep pants and a long sleeve, white shirt with Aqua Man in comic book lettering stretched over his solid chest. 

His sun yellow hair had gotten shaggy over the summer. He’d cut it again right before the football season so it wouldn’t get in his face when he wore his helmet. At the moment, he looked like a maltase poodle. Maltase poodles were friendly. They were cute, and warm and fun to hug. She’d even rub her nose against its wet nose and let it kiss her. She could… maybe… kiss Wally because Wally was like a maltase without a wet nose.

“He’s sort of cute and fluffy when he’s not talking,” Kuki observed out loud. He’d be cute at a tea party with a little pink bonnet and matching summer dress, but Wally’s nose wasn’t wet and his body wasn’t nearly hairy enough, nor was his vocabulary limited to cute little high pitched barks. She’d never risk anyone knowing about her secret Rainbow Monkey tea party that she still threw for herself and her collection late at night when everyone was asleep.

Abby was the first to lean over the bed and grab Wally’s shoulder and arm. “A little help, maybe?”

Kuki immediately leaned in and almost bumped heads with Abby.

“How many flavors of bubble gum lip balm did you put on?” Abby chastised. “You smell like a candy shop.”

Kuki bit her lip. “I’m sorry. This is the first time I’ve actually, you know, used a real person to practice on. I didn’t want chapped lips.”

“I don’t think the football dummy is going to notice,” she said.

Kuki leaned in again, this time sliding both hands around Wally’s shoulder and arm, heaving him into a sitting position. His heat radiated through the overly washed, thin pajama fabric. Why had he chosen something so hot to sleep in? The tree house wasn’t exactly cool at night.

Precariously balanced with his feet on the ground and his spine gently curved in sleep, Wally sat on the edge of his bed. His eyes were slit open, the gray of his irises stared at nothing. He was completely zonked out.

“Now this might be strange to you, but lookie here,” Abby grabbed Wally’s jaw, demonstrating how easy it was to tilt his face upward. The young football star was completely mobile, easy to maneuver. She placed a chaste kiss on his mouth, leaving a light gloss on his pale, pink lips. “Now you try.”

Kuki gulped. Wally wasn’t moving, but she expected him to open his eyes, push her away and declare the need to burn his body of koodies. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure Wally ever graduated from his level of koodie concern. Still, she cupped his jaw, surprised at how firm it felt in her small palm. She tilted his head back and placed an equally chaste kiss on his lips.

Wally stirred and she jerked back, but she couldn’t get far. His arms locked around her waist and she was falling back on top of him. He nuzzled her cheek, kissing blindly along her temple. She pressed her hands against his shoulders, and pushed upward. With Abby’s help, she was loose and Wally had gone limp, askew against the mattress, sighing in his sleep and mumbling unintelligently.

Abby looked as stunned as Kuki felt. “That might be enough of a lesson, ya think? No tell’in what will wake the jock.”

Kuki giggled nervously, finding the heat in her cheeks hard to mask. “Yeah, you’re probably right. How did you know he’d sleep so soundly?”

Now it was Abby’s turn to look embarrassed. A red flush brightened her face. “Uh, well… There was this incident with the ghosts, and the gerbils and the thermostat…”

“Okay, I got it,” Kuki said, leading the way through the destruction zone of a room. She stopped short, nearly running back into Abby with one hand on the door and the other on the switch. Her dark eyes had gone demure, almost embarrassed. “Wally’s fun to kiss.”

“Mmm, boy, don’t I know,” Abby said, switching off the light and closing the door.

oOo 

The Count cursed under his breath. He didn’t have all night and though the young women had been quick, sitting on a limb wasn’t how he wanted to spend his night. He was missing the villain annual convention for a chance to seek his revenge on the operative known as Wallabee Beatles, freshman in high school, football star.

The shrill sirens stopped. The dogs quit barking. The neighborhood was as quiet as the tree house. He stood from where he hid. The darkness within, safely beckoned.

Nothing furry scampered over the floorboards. There was no sign of hidden wayward pets. Nothing stirred except the blinking red light on the television recording nonsense, he supposed.

He slid into the room and stood by the window. The air was stifling; condense with sweat, greasy and sweet foods and dirty clothes. Every scent mingled unpleasantly forming one toxic stench that made the inside of his nose burn and his eyes water. There was one smell that wasn’t completely unpleasant, and that was the smell of clean flesh. Like a thin wrapping over a sharply scented treat, he could smell blood. He could hear the soft, rhythmic beating of the young man’s heart. It made his gums pulse with want.

The floor was littered with junk, bicycle parts, markers over cardboard layouts, and forgotten tidbits. He made it to the bed without incident and sighed in relief. The teen in question wasn’t aware he’d had nightly visitors or that one stood over his bed now. The Count blocked the silver moonlight, casting a long shadow over the sleeping teen. Wallabee’s brows furrowed and he shivered, registering, somewhere deep in his sleep laden mind, the change of temperature.

The Count placed his fingertips on Wallabee’s forehead, brushing the stray strands of butter blond hair from his forehead. Heat lingered on the tips of his fingers where he touched him, but when he withdrew, the heat immediately left his skin, leaving it numb, a permanent frost bite numbness that never went away unless he drank warmth.

He reached out again, but footsteps stilled his hand. They were clunky, not the steps women took. These were the heavy steps of a person in deep thought. A low hum of a motor whistled with the steps and as they neared the door, the Count realized where the person was heading. He slid under the bed, grateful that it was off the floor and not completely stuffed with objects so he couldn’t fit. Still, he found his elbow resting in a half-eaten something.

The door opened and the light flipped on. The Count squeezed his eyes shut until the pain of the light subsided and he slowly opened them again. A lithe figure stood in the doorway in rolled up blue jeans, a collared shirt and vest. He wore an aviator’s cap and goggles, though the goggles were currently resting on his cap. The young man had a name… all the Count knew him by was Numbuh Two. Names hadn’t been important until Wallabee Beatles; “Wally” on the field and among friends.

oOo

Hoagie stood in the doorway with his science fair project hovering just ahead of him in smooth, black metallic. Two large, multi-prism glass bulbs connected at the front and long silver wings that fluttered, though it wasn’t what kept it afloat. The hydro-engine he’d installed gave it most of its power and a little extra tinkering. The idea had come to him when he was in the fourth grade, but he never really knew what he was aiming to build with the sketches of the fly that ended up in his work room so long ago.

Now his contraption was complete, small enough to help kindergarteners and first graders. This was his first model and it needed to be tested by someone taller than the ankle biters. It was sturdy and durable and he needed to know it wouldn’t go down if someone large jumped on it. 

The controller was similar to a game controller, but the inside had the ability to do the same, so two people could control the ship, in case the controller inside the Fly got jammed. The machine glided ahead of him, beautiful in the way the wings caught the light. It would be prettier under natural light, but he was amazed with it on both ends. He cut a path straight through Wally’s stuff, just walking right over it until he made it to the bed. 

He yanked the pen from behind his ear and twisted his arm so he could scratch his notes on the small pad he wore like a bracelet, his own personal invention. “Subject is approximately five-nine in height…” he stared at Wally trying to gauge weight. He was lithe from running, solid and muscular for his frame, but he wasn’t built like a professional. “Slim to midrange in weight, healthy.”

Real healthy. Ever since Wally started playing sports, his diet had changed, but then again, so had Hoagie’s, less chilly dogs and more lean meats. His Flyer stayed level with the bed. He sat his controller on the edge of the mattress, stretched his arms a bit and bent down, making sure to bend his legs. He put his hands up under Wally’s back and under his legs. The heat of his body immediately sank through his clothes. He was successful for an instant. The younger and shorter operative’s dead weight sent them both toppling onto the bed, with Hoagie on top. Wally didn’t stir.

Hoagie sat up and found that he was straddling his quarry. The heat that came from Wally’s body wasn’t completely uncomfortable, despite the heat of the room that even the open window couldn’t move. And Wally smelled clean, like mint body wash. He hadn’t pictured the jock using body cleansing supplies with such a clean, sharp scent.

Hoagie’s heart flip flopped and heat rushed to his face. What was he sitting here thinking? His love was in grease and screwdrivers. He loved nails and blueprints.

This time when he attempted to lift Wally, he was ready for the dead weight. He got him airborne, though thankfully the Fly was right next to the bed. He dropped him into the passenger seat with his legs haphazardly hanging nearly to the floor. Wally slumped over the controls, non-the-wiser. 

In the mess, the controller was no longer on the bed, but beside it on the floor. He swooped down to nab it and caught something pale jolt back under the shadows of the bed. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Great! The last thing they needed was an infestation of ghost gerbils.

He bent down to look, but there was nothing beyond forgotten food containers. It was definitely ghost gerbils. They were going to have to bring out the big guns in the morning and take care of business.

Hoagie stood upright and dusted himself off. Something inside the controller rattled. That was new. Maybe the fall loosened a screw inside the box. He’d have to look at that back in his work shop, a.k.a. bedroom.

He moved the joystick on the controller upward, and the Fly didn’t move. He moved it sideways with the same lack luster results. He moved the joystick back, still nothing. He shook the controller and tried again. Same results. No luck. Inventor’s frustration made his shoulders knot and it wasn’t from lifting something heavier than the contraptions he was use to moving about. 

He jabbed the red button under the controller and the Fly ran straight into the wall. The prism eyes exploded on impact. The wires were exposed like grotesquely sparking veins. There was soot on the wall, but no damage.

The Fly wilted down near the floor. He grabbed Wally and got him on the bed, then pulled his pen out from behind his ear and jotted a note on the pad. One last glance at the jock and heat rushed to his face. Okay, now he really needed to get back to the lab before he forgot the purpose of his task. 

The Fly sputtered behind him as he flipped off the light. He waited for the Fly to move out into the hallway before he closed the door behind him.

oOo 

The Count slid out from under the bed, finding relief in escaping the smell of stale food, but finding no relief in the smell of Wallabee’s flesh and the blood just under the surface. The bed smelled like him, of his life; of his shampoos, body wash and skin. He stayed where he kneeled, looking up the long legs and torso of the sleeping jock. Wallabee had suffered a night of indignation, yet he knew nothing about it.

He cautiously touched Wallabee’s ankle, there was no movement. He could bite the youth’s toes off, but he wouldn’t get too many before the youth woke up. No, he wanted Wally to suffer more than a few lost digits. He wanted to kill the young man’s pride, he wanted to take his willpower and bend it until he only knew what it was to serve, to be a blood swan and crave the touch of fangs in his skin.

He gracefully stood and leaned in. His knee was braced on the bed when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. They weren’t heavy like the inventor, or scurrying like the females. They were light, almost not registering against the floor boards. This was someone who was used to being inconspicuous. It was the way the weight was balanced in the step that said it was someone use to control, use to having everything in his grasp… 

The person beyond the door was hesitant. He waited, hoping they’d go away as the person paced the hall. A second later they came back, waiting just beyond the door.

The Count flinted into the shadows as the door opened. Unlike the others, the light didn’t immediately switch on. Standing in the doorway was an image of a young man, lithe like James Bond, only younger. His shades were down over his eyes, but the Count had a feeling it didn’t hinder Numbuh One’s perception of the dark room. 

As a shadow he scurried along the ceiling to a spot behind a thick limb of the tree that jutted from the floor to the ceiling and curved his body into the space. The light flipped on, but the shadows in this space didn’t move, giving him the power of darkness to retain this airy form.

oOo

Nigel stood in the doorway, listening. Only Wally had this section of the tree house, which left the floor quiet. The elevator didn’t hum with activity and the wood structure didn’t vibrate with activity. It was utterly silent. So why did it still feel like there was an audience? Minus a very, heavy sleeper, the room was empty.

He took the thin, somewhat clean path towards the bed, rubbing his sweaty palms continuously over his jeans with every step. It was lucky that Wally was asleep. He didn’t want to a fellow operative aware of him right now. His throat was dry, his heart was hammering. It only grew worse when he got to the side of the bed.

He took a seat, then immediately stood. That didn’t feel right either. He sat back down with one hand on the sheets. Wally was unaware of the way his mattress shifted with the weight.

This was one of the few moments he could watch Wally at peace. The teen was always busy, getting into something, usually something that was questionable. There were a few times when he had to bring Wally back under control. Without his tough guy attitude and spitfire temper, Wally looked vulnerable. 

This gave him a chance to really study his operative. There was a soft slope to Wally’s nose. It had never been broken, or smashed. It was perfect and small and turned up just slightly at the end. His brows were as blond as his hair, and his sun kissed skin looked as warm as he knew the operative usually was, though he always wore long sleeves and jeans unless he was out practicing on the field. 

Wally’s shirt twisted up during his slumber, showing hip bone and a thin trail of darker blond hair that lead down under the low hanging waistband of his cotton sleep pants. Nigel licked his suddenly dry lips, his mind delving in areas that were far more risky than he’d ever actually take things. He startled when he caught himself staring a little too long at the thick bulge. Now was the wrong time to make any huge announcements to Wally. He had to gauge if, maybe, Wally felt the same way in return towards him. 

Where he wanted to go with Wally was a territory he’d never been, and he was pretty sure Wally was in the same boat… maybe even more in the boat than him. He wasn’t sure Wally ever thought about dating, or the things that came with it. The operative was pretty single minded when it came to tasks. 

There were things he was allowed to say in the waking hours and things that he wasn’t sure anyone should hear. “I know I thanked you for saving us when we got caught at the villain convention tonight, but I couldn’t tell you how terrified I’d been for you when you jumped into the fray. You were outnumbered. You took some pretty heavy hits. You didn’t once say anything towards us for the miscalculation on my end and the faulty gear on Hoagie’s end. You’re outstanding.”

Wally didn’t move. His breathing was steady, his eyes shifted under the lids in rim sleep. His long, slender fingers were loosely curved. Nigel took his hand, lacing his fingers through Wally’s and for a moment, they were touching palm to palm. Wally’s hand was hot, and surprisingly soft. His overly washed pajamas were starting to get thin, though he suspected they were still too warm to be wearing in the tree house with the heat of late summer coming through the tree house boards.

He leaned into the sleeping boy. His other hand hovered over Wally’s exposed hipbone. His expanse of warm skin begged to be touched. He let his thumb explore the jutted hipbone, rolling over and over the flesh in small, tight circles. Wally moaned and tilted his hip into the touch.

Nigel flattened his hand across Wally’s hip, wanting more. His fingers found purchase of that strong, well worked muscle, digging his fingers in and noticing the way Wally moved at his command. He leaned over his teammate and inhaled Wally’s body wash and shampoo. Wally was still deep in slumber.

It was wrong. He should leave now, but he wanted to know what those lips tasted like. He wasn’t one to linger indecisively. Leaning forward, he stole a kiss from the mouth that sat passively naïve to its nightly visitor. To his surprise, Wally kissed back. Was that bubble gum lip gloss? Maybe Wally wasn’t all that straight after all. 

When he pulled back, he expected Wally to be awake, but the only thing that was really awake, stirred at the crossroad of Numbah Four’s thighs where the worn pajamas grew tight. He smirked, finding this promising. He stilled his hands on Wally’s hips, wanting to kiss the line of his athletic curves.

“We should talk when you’re awake,” he whispered in his operative’s ear.

He stood, though reluctant and took himself out of the room, flipping the light and closing the door. 

oOo

Count waited, listening. The tree house was quiet now. There was no noise beyond the door. Everyone was now either asleep, or contained quietly within their prospective spots. When nothing happened, he pulled out from under the bed and climbed into the muddle of sheets and blankets that nearly nested the young man and stretched out alongside the warm, living body. Wallabee shivered in his sleep. The young man knew warmth, while the Count only knew the cold. Heat was a fleeting comfort that brought the tortured cold when it slowly left his body.

He leaned over the sleeping youth, breathing in the soft scent of baby shampoo and body wash, giving the rowdy, obnoxious young man a vulnerable reflection. He lowered his nose to the curve where shoulder met arm, taking in the soft human musk of a washed body that had no unnatural products placed on it yet. 

The Count rolled his nose along Wallabee shoulder and up his neck to the tender curvature of his earlobe taking in the different scents of this one young being. “Wallabee?” There was no response. 

“Wallabee…” he sang.

Wallabee gave a non-committal grunt. He was deep in sleep, which was the perfect time to touch the psyche. Wallabee’s breathing was steady; his skin was taut and begging. The Count whispered in Wallabee’s ear and the young man complied with the demand, tilting his head so that his neck lay bare. He was docile, almost pleasant. The Count pushed blond strands of hair away from Wallabee’s sleeping face. His eyes flickered under his lids in rim sleep.

“What are you dreaming about, Wallabee? Fighting crime or the players on the football field?”

The young man didn’t respond. His long, frosty fingers curled around Wallabee’s wrist, feeling the pulse tap. It thudded with health, a young man who took on vigorous exercise. He could almost taste the blood that would beat into his mouth in time to Wallabee’s pounding heart. It made his gums itch and his teeth extend.

“You have caused a great deal of hardship today,” he said. His voice wasn’t low, no one’s voice had been low tonight, and still the young operative didn’t wake. Saying the young man was a heavy sleeper was an understatement. He wasn’t sure a blow horn would get him to stir.

A passive victim wasn’t a fun victim. He didn’t like his victims inactive. He held Wallabee’s wrist tighter, sure that the young man would wake due to the pinch. Nothing. How was he going to torture a victim that wouldn’t ascend to the occasion?

He lifted Wallabee’s wrist to his lips, but before he could bite down, the strong clouted scent of garlic cloves assaulted his nose. It was faint enough to go unnoticed until now. He released Wallabee’s hand and rubbed his fingers over his suit pants. Wallabee was still comatose to his surroundings, his chest rising and falling in steady tempo to his breathing.

He slid up next to the young football player and sniffed at his neck. The garlic powder had been thoroughly washed from some of him, and possibly reapplied, but it hadn’t been applied on his neck. He laid half his body onto the sleeping form, expecting the teen to struggle. With a hand on Wallabee’s jaw, he tilted the young man’s angular chin upward, leaving his neck exposed. His flesh was young and tan. Wallabee smelled of heat and the sun, of youth and summer, pool parties and grass stains. 

The Count licked Wallabee’s skin, wanting to savor what he hadn’t tasted in centuries, but none of those things were there. The young man smelled of these experiences, but he didn’t taste like them.

He pressed his cold lips against Wallabee’s warm throat. The young man’s pulse fluttered strong with determination, but ever so fragile like a baby bird fallen from its nest. He imagined candy tasting like this, miserably taunting in its flavor and richness. His teeth elongated past his lips, scrapping with sharp precision against the young man’s throat. Blood drew to the surface, rich against sun-kissed skin. 

“Wallabee, this is the last time you bulldoze my plans,” he whispered. He gathered the young man into his arms, cradling his neck. He pushed his fangs deep into Wallabee’s skin, trapping his pulse between his lips. Blood, hot from the living body, blazed over his cold tongue. It burned a molten path from his throat to his stomach. The heat ebbed through his limbs and into his fingers and toes.

Wallabee trembled in his arms and moaned. His hand grasped the Count’s tuxedo coat, but he didn’t try pushing away. Instead, Wallabee reflexively stretched his chin to expose more flesh. This was too easy. He didn’t peg Wallabee as the docile type. Despite the tightening of his muscles, he was still asleep.

It took control to pull his teeth from Wallabee’s neck. A dead football player was useless to him. His revenge would be extracted without the teenager suffering, pleading or humiliated. Numbuh Four’s blurry gray eyes stared at him through heavy half-lids. He was awake, but he couldn’t tell if the young man was really conscious. The vampire venom kept the victim passive; something he never thought would work on the uncultivated Numbuh Four. 

“You, Wallabee Beatles, are now my thrall,” he whispered against the cusp of Wally’s warm ear. His lips brushed the thin, intricate folds of warm cartilage. “You will do as I say without question.” 

Wally’s jaw opened and immediately closed. He winced when he swallowed, but with a weak arm, managed to rest his hand on the Count’s crisp white shirt. The operative’s jaw fixed with determination. “I will never be your slave.”

Pleasure slid through every nerve in the Count’s over stimulated body. “Are you resisting?” The animal within him, the beast that craved the last drop of life surged to the surface of his existence. “I was hoping you’d put up a fight, Wallabee Beatles.”

“And I was hoping you’d take the bait,” Wally growled. 

He detached himself from the teen and pulled away from the bed to watch him. It took all of Wally’s energy to sit upright. His face was pale. The puncture wounds on his neck were puckered and bleeding into the fabric of his blue shirt. The wounds pulsed with the steady rhythm of his healthy, athletic heart.

“Not feeling so well?” The Count mocked. He took a step back and the heat rushing through his system turned sour and cold. He caught the edge of the bed for support.

“Looks like it’s contagious,” Wally retorted with a tired, almost humorless smirk.

Damn the child if he thought he was going to get away with tonight. It took effort to get around the bed. His feet felt like lead. He could barely think around the pulse that took root in his skull. Headaches were what the living suffered from; not the dead.

Wait. Wally said bait.

“You little horror of a child, I will teach you to respect your elders.” The Count lunged at him and Wally kicked back, not getting much farther than the Count in the struggle. 

“I don’t respect hacks,” Wally countered.

He stepped forward, determined to wrap his hands around Wally’s neck and squeeze until his last breath pressed from his lips. The willful teen managed to stumble just out of his reach. The solidness that took root in the Count’s legs, crawled along his spine and into his arms until it was difficult to move. He fell on the bed, reaching for Wally who was pressed against the wall, out of reach.

“You will be my thrall,” he threatened.

“My future is captain of the football team,” Wally answered. 

He got close enough to brush his fingers against Wally’s thigh before the heaviness drew through his skull and darkness pulled him under.

oOo

“Good work, Numbuh Four, he took the bait. The Count will be off the street for a while now,” Nigel Uno said from the doorway. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Good,” Wally said. He leaned against the wall until his group removed the Count from the room. There was blood on his shirt and blood on the bed, but the serum in his system left him exhausted, a side-effect of what he had to consume and lay as bait for the Count.

He shifted into bed, feeling the ache in his neck that slid between his shoulder blades. Somewhere, between bouts of consciousness, he was aware that Kuki lingered in his room.

“This is gonna hurt, Numbuh Four,” she stated. 

The smell of rubbing alcohol was strong and the sting sharp as she rubbed it over his skin. Before he could thank her, he drifted back into sleep. When he woke, he was alone. He lay on the bed, staring up at the wood board ceiling. Light came in through the window. Birds were already singing and somewhere in the solitude, the sound of voices and video games came through the cracks in the floor.

He pulled himself from the bed and felt the twinge in his muscles on the left side of his body. It started from his neck and went downward. He cradled his arm as he pulled his shirt off and looked at the bite in the mirror. Luckily, his reflection was still present. That meant the vampire bite had no ill effects. The fang bites were puckered, red and crusted. The skin around the incision was purple and sensitive to the touch. He probed gently and something of an ache rolled in his stomach. He didn’t understand that ache, it was like a craving, one that he knew was dangerous.

Wally splashed water against is face and patted it dry before pulling a bandage over the wound, then threw his shirt over his head followed by his signature sweater and a pair of jeans. The group of teen agents looked up at him when he entered. Their expressions were hard to gauge. He hated that look they often gave him when a mission was a little too close for call. He’d come back with broken bones, concussions and stitches, it was always this look from them. Just like those times, he couldn’t tell now what they thought.

“Ace of a job,” Nigel offered.

“That was so brave!” Kuki agreed.

“Way to win it,” Hoagie said.

“You do al’right, kid,” Abby stated.

Wally found himself smiling sheepishly at the kudos. “The stuff you guys gave me must have been strong.” He changed the subject instead of acknowledging their comments. “I feel like I was up all night.”

The team suddenly found themselves busy with their cereal bowls and mumbling noncommittally. He sat down at the table taking it for what it was, another morning in the tree house.


	2. Operation T.H.R.A.L.L.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Gabby. I got your review and though I hadn't thought to continue this, since I didn't think KND fan fiction was that popular, I just let it be. Here is a little of what you asked, but written a little more gritty and darker than the first portion of this. Hopefully you still enjoy it and thanks so much for brightening my day with a review. :) 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos friends!

“You’ve been sleeping in class,” Nigel said. The breakfast table hushed the minute Wally took a seat. “Are you feeling okay? You never let the medics look at the bite or take a blood test. It’s not easy playing the role as bait and the drugs were experimental.” 

Wally shoved the entire cereal bar into his mouth, which wasn’t like him. He hated cereal bars. Everyone else ate sweetened cereal, but the jock specialized his diet for the season. The one thing he hadn’t done was cut his hair, which he usually did right before football started. The shaggy blond curls brought his threat level down a notch. He was almost… what would Kuki say? Cute? Nigel tried to shake the thought, but it stuck to him like the lice that attacked their tree house back in elementary.

“I’m fine. I freaking hate doctors and the ones at the center aren’t any better. I’m not letting a bunch of lab coats poke at me.”

“Do you have light sensitivity? Are you feeling weak or disoriented? Have you experienced a lack of hunger or a change in your sleeping habits? Have you experienced any change in your mood?” Abigail paused at the last question. Nigel carefully studied their hitter.

Wally blushed and broke eye contact with the group for a mere second before his resolve strengthened and he shrugged like there wasn’t a care in the world. “I would tell you guys if I didn’t think I could handle things, but there isn’t anything I can’t handle. So it’s fine.”

“Everything doesn’t always have to be fine,” Kuki said. “That’s why we have psychologists and psychiatrists and a slew of specialists and medicine—”

“Are you kidding? There’s nothing wrong with me. I was built for the hard hits and I take them, but I always bounce back and this is me now bouncing right out of here.” He left the kitchen a bundle of nerves carefully hidden under a hooded sweater when it wasn’t cold enough to wear them yet.

Everyone waited in silence for the elevator to ding, signifying the retreat of their hitter. Hoagie sighed, dropping his spoon in his bowl. “He’s so not fine. He’s definitely hiding something.”

“Do you think this sudden sullenness is tied to the drugs the lab injected in him?” Nigel asked. He sat back in his chair, no longer hungry. There was a knot in his stomach and a building pressure high in his chest. A heavy foreboding hit him.

“Or with the Count. It’s not like vampire bites have been widely studied. The only research the libraries and media have on the subject are roughly outdated,” Hoagie said.

“There is a rumor going around that Wally likes it rough and the only people rough at school are the jocks. The other students are talking about his faded hickey right here,” Kuki pointed to the curve where shoulder meets neck. “I haven’t seen the bite since it happened. I have no idea if it’s even healing or if this is an old rumor that just won’t die.”

Nigel pressed his fingers at his temple, trying to starve off a growing headache. They were best friends. “Damn it! He should feel safe telling me what’s going on.” 

What left his eyes so haunted? What made him occasionally glance over his shoulder when they were out late at night? His hitter was intense and moody more so than usual. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed the thin gold chain around Wally’s neck. They shared a communal shower, setup like at the high school gym and he caught sight of the tiny gold cross connected to the chain. He even followed behind Wally one Sunday, curious to find that Wally suddenly found religion at a Catholic Church, one of the strictest ones in town.

Hoagie was the first to stand from the table. “Dude, he’s scared.”

“I doubt it. That’s not like Wally at all,” Kuki said.

“We need someone tailing our operative at all times,” Nigel said. He knew everyone’s schedule, knew who would have class with Wally, and the one class no one had with the hitter right before lunch. They would all eat together, including Lizzy who was keen on having them try her latest desserts; he suspected she liked feeding the team though she wasn’t a part of it.

 

oOo

 

Kuki glanced over at Wally. His eye lashes fluttered as he tried to stay awake and failed. He rested his cheek on his fist, propping his head up, but still couldn’t keep his eyes open. His head slowly slid to the desk, caught in the rook of his arm. Kuki caught Abby’s eyes, who sat directly behind him and gave a curt nod.

“It’s important to remember these facts. This will be on the pop quiz on Friday,” Mr. Lawrence droned on as he wrote bullet points on the blackboard. He didn’t glance back once. 

Kuki glanced at Wally who sighed in his sleep. She gave thumbs up to Abby who immediately leaned over her desk to hook a slender, French manicured nail into the collar of the soft cotton sweatshirt Wally wore. She pulled down on it and waited for Wally to move. He didn’t. Kuki leaned in and still couldn’t see anything on his neck. That had to be a good sign, right? She shrugged at her fellow operative who sighed and signaled for her to look again. There was still nothing to see.

Numbuh Five pulled it down farther and Kuki leaned farther into the aisle to see. Short of standing and being right on top of him, she could barely see anything be it a white scar that marred his tanned skin. She shrugged and slid back into her chair a second before a hand caught Abby’s wrist. Both girls screamed in surprise.

“What are you—” Mr. Lawrence started, but fell silent from the hand that gripped his wrist.

They all stared equally surprised at Wally’s quick response though he’d been sound asleep a second ago. His blue-gray eyes blinked up at Mr. Lawrence, before he quickly let go of his wrist. He was clearly incoherent as he looked down at his desk then glanced at the front of the class and over to the large windows as if he expected to be somewhere else, or with someone else.

“Asleep again in class Mister Beatles,” Mr. Lawrence let Abigail go and turned his full attention on Wally, who didn’t look back up at him.

“Can I be excused?” Wally asked. Mr. Lawrence barely gave permission before Wally was out of his seat with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“I have to pee,” Kuki yelled, taking off after Wally. The minute she hit the hallway, he was gone; vanished. She took a breath and thought it through, spotting the boys restroom. She shoved her way in, smelling the sharp tang of piss from the urinals.

The faucet was running with clean water filling the porcelain basin. Water was splashed on the mirror and slowly dripped down to the sharp edge jutting off the wall mount. Only one stall door was closed and it was the largest stall towards the back. She expected it to be locked, but it easily pushed inward. She wasn’t sure what to expect, maybe Wally on the toilet ready to scream at her, but Wally wasn’t on the toilet. He was on the floor with his back flush against the wall and his arms wrapped around his legs. His head rested downward on his kneecaps as he visibly shook. He looked smaller than he should for a lineman.

“Wally?” She didn’t want to startle him, but he didn’t move at the sound of her voice. It was dangerous startling Numbuh Four. People got hurt around him and sometimes the mission completely blew up. It depended on exactly what mind frame the hot-headed blond was in. “Wally?”

She reached out to touch his leg when his hand shot out, catching her wrist and bending it at an angle that caused her to fall to the ground to keep the bone from giving. He stared at her with dilated pupils and dazed eyes. She wasn’t sure he actually saw her.

“Wally, it’s me, Kuki. You’re safe,” she said. 

He immediately let her go. “Sorry. I’m… sorry… just tired.” He shoved both hands in his hair, pushing the maltase-like curly strands away from his face. He looked nice with long hair and even better with it pulled tight away from his face. “Just really, really tired. I… I don’t know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. He was flush. “Wally, what is going on? You’re scaring us.”

“Us?” he asked with a hint of annoyance. He used the wall to stand, forcing her to back up to give him room. He wasn’t the shortest operative any more. She was. “I don’t need babysitters. I watch out for my team, not the other way around. I can handle any issue that comes up.”

“You’re not handling this one. What are you looking for when you stare off into space like you heard a voice?” she asked. The tic between his brows said she wasn’t entirely wrong on that accusation. “That’s what I thought. You know something you aren’t telling us. Are we all in danger?” There was no response. “Or only you?”

He threw his hands up in the air. “A few months without a mission and the entire team goes stir crazy.”

“You’re a little defensive don’t you think?” She stood her ground. 

His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. She was right and that hit a nerve with him. He was hiding information from them. Instead of responding, he rolled his eyes and left the boys bathroom. She pulled out her mobile phone and texted the others: Wally is definitely scared. It could have something to do with our last mission.

In less than a second, she got three responses back. It was good to share the burden when it came to a fellow comrade. She wasn’t alone in her concern and together, they would be the rock Wally needed in order for him to heal.

 

oOo

 

Wally knew what he had to be done because disregarding the voice wasn’t an option. It refused to be ignored and after months with it constantly whispering, it finally destroyed his strong will. It whispered names like; thrall, blessed swan, gorgeous baby and haunted virgin.

Every word spoken made him shiver. It made the muscle under the scar on his neck tighten and ebb for the wet sturdy pull of pressure at his throat. It was a sick desire, too dark to mention to anyone, including the priest. And that desire made him spend hours in the bathroom willing his shaft to deflate. His hands couldn’t touch his body as thoroughly, couldn’t dig as deep as that voice, heating everything in his organs as if he drank boiling hot chocolate straight out of the microwave.

Blessed swan. He didn’t like that name. It was too submissive; too passive for the Team Hitter, yet he craved to hear it when the wound on his neck connected directly to the rush of heat that came during his wet dreams. Jesus, was he having wet dreams again? It’d been years since that happened, like right when he hit puberty in elementary.

He followed the guard down the hallway, glancing up from beneath his lowered hoodie to stare at the latest version of security cameras that were circular now, allowing the camera to follow movement at 360 degrees. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he lowered his head again, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. 

“You’re a little young to be here without parents,” the guard said. Wally shrugged, but grew hotter around the collar as the guard stared hard at him. “You get thirty minutes and then I’ll be back to get you.”

That’s enough time to tell the Count to fuck off. The guard pulled the door open and waited a second for Wally to change his mind. Wally held his breath and crossed into the heavily fortified room. The muscles in his legs and his back tightened. The guard drew the heavy door closed and locked the door from outside. This was a maximum security prison where the criminals were extraordinary and now he had to see this through because there was no phone to call the guard to let him out.

The room appeared empty, but the nerve endings under the scar on his neck pulled in response to a very particular person. Suddenly nervous, he licked his lips. This was utterly stupid, even for him. There were no two way mirrors and no cameras, there were no witnesses to make sure this visit didn’t get out of hand.

“They save this room for congenial visits.” The Count’s voice was silky smooth and deep. His chuckle was shameless. “What kind of visit is this going to be Mister Beatles?”

Wally swallowed hard. He really shouldn’t be here, because the vampire’s voice made his stomach flutter just like in his dreams, which usually followed another highly evolved reaction. “It’s the type of visit where I tell you to stay out of my head, old man.”

The air took shape and within a millisecond, the Count stood in front of him. He took a step back when a mere two fingers on his shoulder stopped him in place; not because they were forceful in nature, but because it was domineering in the gesture. He grew hot beneath his jacket.

“I’m sure you took precautions to keep our shared little secret,” the Count said. He stood tall, lean and pale with obsidian black eyes that reflected Wally’s face like a mirror.

Wally glared. “I have a lot of secrets, buddy, and you aren’t one of them, so back off. I don’t want to hear the disgusting things you mutter.”

“Your heart quickens and your pupils dilate when you lie, but your mouth is so pretty while you’re doing it. What other pretty things can you do with that gorgeous mouth of yours?”

What the…? He wasn’t expecting this, but now that it was mentioned out loud, his breath caught. He found himself staring at the Count’s red lips and perfectly aligned, toothpaste commercial white, teeth.

“Do you know the telltale signs of a subservient being the moment attraction hits, Wally? Their nostrils flare, taking in the scent of their alpha male, their leader. Their body softens,” he punctuated his words by rolling his finger tips down Wally’s cheek to his chin. Everything inside him screamed when he leaned into the touch. This earned a smile from the vampire, in turn, giving him instant gratification. “Your instincts have already kicked in. Your body knows it wants what I can offer, even if your mind hasn’t accepted this truth of the matter.”

Wally hit his hand away. “This was a mistake. Clearly you’re insane and I’m going to make sure you never get out of here.”

“I can smell you Wallabee. I can smell the way your blood raises to the surface with fear and anticipation. You showered, but that didn’t wash the betraying scent of what you did while you were at school and what you did again in the shower,” he leaned in, whispering the last part against his ear. “I saw how you stripped down for me when you thought you were alone. I watched you bite your bottom lip, trying so hard not to scream out loud.”

Wally jerked away from him and reached out to shove the Count away, but his hands went through nothing. The Count took shape, smirking at his confusion. He placed two cold fingers under Wally’s chin and raised his chin an inch to stare into his obsidian eyes. Wally took a breath, and then another, finding each passing second getting easier. His mind was calming down.

“That’s right, sweet blessed virgin,” the Count said, touching a lock of Wally’s hair. “You’ve heard my voice all summer and followed my instructions so well. I’m proud of you for behaving.”

Wally swallowed, but couldn’t break the flow of his thoughts, slowing… slowing… slowing…

“Take off your jacket and shirt so I can look at my mark on your skin,” the Count said. Wally’s breath caught and the Count tsked softly. “It’s okay, breath in and out. There you go. Keep breathing.”

Every breath he drew was intoxicating. The vampire smelled like incense and wood polish, wet earth and graveyard wreaths. His heart raced as each notch vibrated to the core of his bones as he rolled the zipper down and dropped his jacket to his feet. He pulled his shirt over his head and his skin prickled from the icy atmosphere, but the Count made approving sounds that quickly made him hot again.

The vampire chuckled, folding his arms. He wore his orange prison clothes well. His shoulders weren’t nearly as narrow as he’d thought. The vampire didn’t look so lithe and fragile. He suddenly felt vulnerable. Was the Count truly the more dominant one? 

The Count chuckled. “The necklace is adorable Wallabee. Does it make you feel safe?”

Wally fingered the cross around his neck. “What did you do to me?”

“Wallabee,” the Count reached out and gently tugged a curly strand of hair before tucking it behind his ear. “You’ve always wanted a master. I’m merely stepping up and taking ownership of you.”

 

oOo

 

Wally was more entertaining awake than he was when asleep. The youth left his hair long, which feminized his masculine qualities. The blondish- white strands held the warm radiation given off by the sun. Every strand he wrapped his fingers around, transferred the memory of heat and light he could no longer personally take.  
“I’m going to embed so deeply inside you that when you sit out in the sun, I’ll feel it.” He kept his voice low in the intimate space he invaded. He could feel Wally’s mental defenses still up, even if he was currently under his persuasion. 

He leaned in, pressing his nose to the crown of Wally’s head and took a deep inhale of breath, sucking in the shattered pieces of the operatives day. The smell of Bermudagrass, not the usual ryegrass, was strong on his skin over his palms and up his forearms from his football practice. The lingering scent of peanut butter on his fingertips said what he ate and the smell of females around his neck said he’d been too close for the Count’s pleasure to possibly other interests. 

“It will only be me, Wally.” He wrapped his arms around the young man, drawing one hand up into the young man’s hairline and twisting his fingers into the strands, pulling them away from his tanned neck. The strain forced his veins and tendons to react. 

He couldn’t believe the young man came to him, all pretty boy golden with his love of the sun, baby shampoo products and puppy dog eyes. Wally was naïve or he’d never come so ill prepared. He didn’t smell like garlic. There wasn’t a trace of anything on his skin saying this was a setup. 

He drew the fingers of his free hand up under Wally’s chin, tracing the blue veins to the dip in his collarbone where the muscle was deeply defined. His same finger rolled down over the valley of his distinct pectoral muscles. He traced the areola of his left nipple, rolling his finger around and around the quarter size coloration. On instinct, Wally’s hand came up to rest on the Count’s bicep, but didn’t push him away.

“You’re being so good Mister Beatles; such a good, good little boy,” he said. Wally made a choked sound that could’ve been his stress. His heart was racing under his diaphragm. 

The Count used his two fingers to trap the nub of Wally’s nipple and the young man started to squirm. This was too much for him. He wasn’t comfortable with it, which made the Count smirk. 

“We’ll pump these little nubs and get them bigger and swollen so there is more to suck on,” he teased.

Wally started squirming more. His other hand came up to the Count’s wrist caught in the young man’s hair. “There isn’t going to be another time. Bite me and then let me go.”

The comment startled the Count. “You came here wanting this?”

Wally’s checks turned red. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be. You need blood or you wouldn’t be bugging me. Call this a truce.”

The Count threw his head back and laughed. The sound rushed from him. He couldn’t control it. “You think that you call the shots, kid? No. I’ll tell you when it’s over. The truth of the matter is, you like this or you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I don’t need a master. I’m not into that kinky stuff. I have a mission and I’m tying the loose ends now,” he said.

“You believe I’m a lose end?” He smirked. 

Wally didn’t meet his eyes and when he talked. He probably wasn’t aware he was doing it. The boy was rightfully scared and it made his skin smell so much more promising like walking on the fairgrounds and smelling salted popcorn and warm sugar being caught on a stick and sold as cotton candy. 

“You smell delicious. I will enjoy sinking my teeth into your artery, but where would I want the blood? Would I want to take it from your jugular or somewhere a little easier to hide my mark like the vein between your thighs?” He marked his statement by thrusting his free hand between Wally’s thighs. 

Wally’s muscles ticked with surprised by the invasion even as he instantly went hard. He was caught off guard, but his face betrayed nothing. “Stop talking and just do it.”

His face went hard again. It was a look the Count knew so well, but it was false brevity. What Wally said and did were so opposite of how his heart felt. He kept his mask carefully in place. The Count chuckled as he carefully drew his hand in and out from between Wally’s clutched thighs. 

“You need to get out of my head or I will make you get out of my head,” Wally threatened.

“You believe that’s possible, baby boy? You think you can stop what I’ve already done to you? Or how your body responds so quickly to me?” 

Wally got his hands up between them and tried pushing back, but his strength didn’t compare. The only thing he had going for him was the element of surprise and he screwed that up the minute he walked through the door to the tiny cell. 

He let the boy tire himself out, trying to push away. Even gave him false hope by putting a little space between them, but the angrier and more scared Wally became, the more delicious the scent that emitted off him. His blood was hot. He was rallied and full of adrenaline and serotonin and testosterone.

“What does my bite do to you?” He asked, knowing the naughty truth in its entirety. If Wally hadn’t been a virgin, he wouldn’t be so succumbed by the effects. 

Sexually active people would find another outlet for the desire a mark would leave on their inner most hot spots. 

Wally froze in his arms. “Invasive. Cumbersome. Itchy. Unwanted like the hack villain you are.”

He laughed and the football star shivered in his arms. “Not completely unwanted or you wouldn’t be here right now. Tell me now, Wally, about that itch. You can’t quite appease it can you?”

He tongued the blue vein pressing against Wally’s neck. The operative hissed. His fingers tightened in the Count’s shirt as he forgot to fight back. The hell bent child needed so much therapy and he was the one that could fix it all by giving Wally the one thing he needed the most; a master, someone who was stronger, more determined and more dominant. He needed guidance, and someone in full control to take him down the right journey. 

He found a new, warm patch of skin he wanted to bruise and his fangs itched their way down his gums until his canines made his mouth full. It was easy to ignore Wally’s hold on the hand he had shoved between the football player’s thighs. 

“Please,” Wally begged, breathless and wanton.

His eyebrow arched with interest. “Please what, Wally. Tell me what you want. Tell me everything you want from me.”

“Please,” Wally begged again. It could’ve been a plea to stop or a plea to continue, had the young man known what he really wanted, but he could tell that Wally tittered on the brink of sorts, and he couldn’t weigh his options given his current state.

“Baby boy, tell me what you want. So gorgeous, aren’t you Wally? You don’t hear that, do you, because you’re too busy being the protector. Do you want someone to protect you?” he asked.

Wally started to shift in his arms. He was trying to make a decision and his decision said he shouldn’t be here. They both know that’s what should logically be going through Wally’s head. The child’s eyes were dazed when he met his gaze. Wally swallowed hard. Yes, he was very aware he shouldn’t be here.

The Count tightened his hold on Wally’s hair and arched his neck back again. Wally cried out, surprised by the force and the Count sucked on the skin he intended to bite. The football player subconsciously started grinding into his touch. The heat from his hardened organ radiated through his jeans as Wally’s breathing shifted, growing shallow and quick.

“That’s right my swan, my sweet virgin, you are behaving so good for me, staying so calm. I’m not going to hurt you more than I have too,” he whispered over his neck, stealing the younger man’s heat.

He sank the tips of his incisors through the top layer of skin, feeling the give of the healthy, young flesh protecting the vital veins below the surface. Hot blood, radiating the heat of life and sunlight, rushed over his cold lips and tongue. He latched his mouth around the hole, digging in deeper. Wally cried out, clutching the front of the Count’s orange jumper. For a human, his strength was impressive, but not a match to a vampire’s strength.

He suckled on the wound. The wet sounds filled the quiet of the room. He stroked the outline of Wally’s hardness and the young man pushed into his hand. Tension leaked out of his tight muscles, making the youth warm, malleable and oh so willing. The football star wanted to feed him. It was loudly spoken in the way Wally’s breath hitched with content.

He slid his fangs from Wally’s skin and licked at his mark. When he remained lethargic, the Count took the young man’s face from the cradle of his shoulder so he could look into his beautifully dazed and content eyes. Wally’s lips were open as he came down from his high. He took that moment to press their mouths together. Wally passively allowed the abuse on his mouth. One day soon, he’d make the young man orgasm, but not here in the room when he could hear the soft click of boots coming down the corridor.

The Count pulled back, allowing the operative to wake from his spell. “Hide your new marks, Mister Beatles. I will not have anyone impeding on my claim. You are completely mine.”

Wally’s eyes widened in panic. This time when he pulled away, the Count let him go. He raised a hand to his neck and closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. It confirmed his suspicion; there was no way the Brats-Next-Door knew their hitter was at the prison donating blood. 

Wallabee pulled his shirt on and then his jacket, zipping it all the way up. Even with the fluffy hoodie, it didn’t cover the angry, bruising welt on the kid’s neck.

“Get out of my head,” Wally growled, pointing a finger at him. 

“Next time, I’m going to make you orgasm, kid,” he promised.

Wally looked ready to faint. It had everything to do with the blood loss and heavy laden emotions. “There isn’t going to be a next time. Next time you’re in my head, I’m coming here with a stake.”

“Empty threats, Mister Beatles. You can no sooner kill me as your new master than you can openly betray Nigel Uno as your old master.”

Wally’s breath caught. “I don’t have a master, let alone two. Keep this up and I’ll make your life a living hell.”

The Count tsked. “That’s not something to say to the person that is making you feel so incredibly good and Wally, unless you cut ties with your other master, I will kill him when I get out of here. I won’t share you.”

Wally growled. “I don’t have a master! I have a leader, but Ni- Numbuh One isn’t my master.”

“Thou protests too much.”

Wally opened his mouth, ready to throw another jab, when the door opened and the guard walked in. The older man looked at Wallabee first and frowned. The Count leaned back against the wall with his hands deep in his pockets. After a feeding like this, he couldn’t get his fangs to pull back up into his jaw, which meant even with his mouth closed, the teeth protruded against his lips. 

“Times up, kid. Time to get home before your parents get worried,” the guard said. Under his breath he added, “Fucking skin you alive for being here if you were my kid.”

Wally hissed under his breath, pulling his hood up over his face. Head lowered and shoulders pent up tight, he left the room, but his scent lingered. The Count took a deep breath of testosterone and pheromones and the deeply rooted desire that hit every young man when he was sexually active, except Wally wasn’t like every young man. Wallabee Beatles still portrayed strong innocents… but that innocence was slowly fading. He could see it today.

 

oOo

 

Wally didn’t go back to the tree house. The porch light was on as he slid inside, locking the door behind him. There was another light on in the living room and he caught his face in the round mirror. Blood, red against his pale features, startled the hell out of him. No wonder the guard stared so hard at him.

All the way home, he tasted blood in his mouth. Now he knew why. Staring at his obscene reflection made him hot with anger, but it quickly cooled into confusion. He went straight to the kitchen and poured water and drank it. It wasn’t enough. He was so thirsty. He opened the fridge and everything looked great. He placed the milk, orange juice, Gatorade and tea in a row on the counter and went down the line, consuming as much as his stomach could hold. He had to stop before he reached the Root Beer. His stomach couldn’t take any more.

He scooped more than needed into the coffee filter and turned the pot on. He couldn’t sleep. He absolutely couldn’t let himself sleep or he would dream and the Count would call him back. Until the connection was broken, he had to make sure the vampire couldn’t reach him through his dreams. He drank what he could of the coffee, all black with no cream or sugar. When his stomach hurt from all the liquid, he set his cup to the side. He’d be drinking it all night now. He really, really, really couldn’t allow himself to go unconscious. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but he knew the Count was there.

He moved quietly to the bathroom, stripped out of his clothes and glanced at his reflection again. There was still blood on his face that didn’t wipe off in the kitchen. He was pale and his pupils were blown wide against the blue-gray of his irises. The bite made a welt where his shoulder met his neck. The skin was bruised from the suction. He could still hear the obscene sound of the Count feeding off his body. The wet suckling went straight down a white hot line to his shaft. He shivered and tried to shove the thought into a very tight box as he climbed into the shower.

Tomorrow, Nigel would probably ask why he didn’t go to the tree house. He had to be prepared that his team would try to analyze his behavior. No more. He was done with the Count. He would easily bury this and go on as usual.

“Sorry Count, I’m not your thrall or …” He instantly blushed, “everything else you go on about.”


	3. Operation Y.O.U.R.S

Nigel leaned against the wall, watching Wally sitting at the large, open window. His skin had a pallid tint in the darkness. Besides football practice and mandatory government education, he wasn’t sure Wally would leave his house. 

Even now, their hitter remained withdrawn, almost borderline indifferent. Every so often, Wally reached for his neck and causally pressed his fingers over the same spot at his collar bone.

Kuki, curled on the tile floor with her backpack under her head, didn’t stir from sleep. Hoagie continued tinkering with his screwdriver and the metal tube on his lap.

“Who’s ready for double chocolate shakes with extra chocolate chunks?” Abby announced her presence as she entered the room with a tray of drinks and one she held separately. She briefly glanced at Nigel and he nodded for her to proceed with their plan.

Abby made her way around the small group, passing out the drinks. Nigel took the one she held… the one laced with Baby-Down, a hefty sleeping agent concocted by their best scientists at headquarters. It’d been tested at nurseries, preschools and with much younger siblings. 

He sat the drink on the window ledge and scooted it into Wally’s line of sight. “Nothing is happening. I think we should call it a night.”

“Go. I can keep watch.” Wally’s eyes never left the skeletal boneyard of a jungle gym down below. The absent moon left the school yard in shadow and the building even darker. 

“School starts in four hours. You’ll sleep in class if you stay here all night,” Nigel said. Logically, it never concerned him in the past if Wally slept through class. Their hitter pulled good enough grades to stay on the football team. 

Wally dragged his gaze from the field… No. His attention had been focused beyond the playground and past the parking lot. His eyes were red rimmed and heavy. 

Still, no amount of goading would get him to sleep more than a few minutes at a time.

“It’s fine. I’ve got this.” Wally insisted as he adjusted his sweatshirt and pulled the hoodie over his head. Soft, blond strands curled along the hem.

Frustrated, he nodded and gave the team the signal to gather their gear. “Let’s close it up and head out.”

Wally sighed and melted against the window frame. His attention drifted back to the dark field. Nigel ignored the wild glare and silently mouthed protests Abby threw at him as he kneeled down beside Kuki. 

“Hey, Kuki.” He gently nudged her until she rolled onto her back. She gave him a languid smile as she looked up at him with hazy eyes. “It’s time to get going.”

“Maybe one of us should stay with Wally?” Abby offered.

“I can handle night watch alone,” Wally huffed. He almost looked like an angelic vigilante.

The team silently collected their things before shuffling out into the dark hallway. 

“You know it’s crazy leaving him. How will he explain to the teacher why he’s at the school before the doors open,” Abby argued.

Nigel threw his backpack to the side. “He won’t have to explain anything. We’re going to wait an hour and then go back in to get him.”

 

oOo

 

Wally leaned out the second story window. The chill wind nipped at his skin and tugged at his hair, but it couldn’t keep his eyelids from drifting downward. He blinked. Tiredness prickled at his vision. He vigorously shook his head before picking the drink up again. If he kept his body moving, he wouldn’t fall asleep.

The thick chocolate shake stimulated his hunger and he sucked on the straw, trying to remember the last thing he ate. Was it dinner? He couldn’t recall. The world outside laid in shadow. Nothing stirred. His true enemy was locked away. Nothing to fear. So why did everything inside him feel constantly on edge? 

“Okay, Wally, get a grip dude.” He whispered under his breath. He slid from his window seat to grab his phone from his backpack. His vision narrowed and he caught himself on the desk seconds before his legs gave out on him. 

The darkness hedged the edge of his vision, wrapping its talons at the core of his being. It was so sudden. It left him drifting until fingers wrapped around his biceps and words were being spoken close enough to his ear to jar him from the black jumbled swamps of his psyche.

“Hey, it’s just us.” The British timbre made Wally sigh.

“Please. Don’t let me fall asleep. You can’t let me fall asleep.” He begged, or tried to beg. His tongue was a solid brick in his mouth. His lips were lead. His head kept falling back, jerking him awake when it felt like he was falling.

A hand cupped the back of his skull, forcing him to lay with his nose against Nigel’s neck. He took a deep breath and then another, taking in the scent that solely belonged to their leader; English tea, sugar cookies and vanilla. His mind drifted again. 

He had a strong sense of self in a world so dark that not even shadows formed. He tugged at his clothes, relieved that he still wore his team sweatshirt. His skin prickled along his back as if something cold and boney brushed over his spine. He hissed and turned away from it. The solid silence made his ears ring.

“Wally…” the calling began. 

His blood drummed in his ears. It was so cold here. So agonizingly frigid and he knew why. The Count inhabited this world in his incorporeal form. The spectral touch felt so real. It glided over his shoulders and down his arms. It pulled at the edge of his sleeve. It stole each breathe he released into the darkness. 

“Oh Wally. Sweet, naïve swan. I understand you better than you understand yourself,” the crisp, male voice whispered in his ear and along his neck. 

He didn’t mean to lean back. He didn’t mean to find comfort in the strength that wrapped around his arms and torso, drawing him so close. He shuddered. Tension released from his muscles; with it, his will. 

“Thump, thump, thump… your heart beats so fast. It’s the same surge of adrenaline you get from anticipating your football games, Wally.” The voice was so familiar now; so precise and articulate. “I’ll protect you. I’ll cherish you. Come find me.”

He placed a kiss on Wally’s collar bone, right next to the last mark. His nerves tingled and tightened. This could work… He was almost sure of it.

 

oOo

Nigel waited a heartbeat of a second to see if being this close to Wally would wake him. Their hitter had been stretched on the bed, his back arched upward as if there were hooks in his chest trying to lift him off the bed. He hadn’t planned to climb onto the mattress and mold his body to the sleeping athlete. He really hadn’t planned to push Wally’s hair off his sweaty forehead or ease him out of his sweat shirt, but their hitter had calmed down considerably at his touch.

He threw the sweatshirt to the side, and then slipped his arm around Wally’s warm chest, trying to ignore his pectoral curves. It worked about as well as ignoring the smell of baby powder on Wally’s skin and how his hair curled like ivy looking for something to wrap around. 

The tension in his body went lax. His breathing slowed to normal, but he shuddered. His lips parted in a sigh. It drew Nigel’s attention to the dip in Wally’s neck. He wanted to suck on his skin and the thought made parts of him, the parts that were less noble, twitch with interest. 

“Call medic. I want someone here tomorrow morning to look at Wally,” Nigel ordered. Hoagie nodded and moved out of the room as Kuki came in with a wet washcloth. 

“Are we all skipping school?” Kuki asked with hope. She sat heavily in the chair beside the bed. Her black hair, pulled into a messy ponytail, allowed long, black strands to frame her oval face. 

He took the washcloth from her and placed it on Wally’s head. “I can handle this alone. The rest of you need to be at the school in case anything new comes from the teenager headquarters.” 

Kuki shook her head. “This is Wally we’re talking about. We should all be here in case this is worse than we think.”

“I agree with her.” Abby announced her presence in the doorway before entering the large, messy room. Nothing in Wally’s space had been touched for months. It wasn’t like their hitter to let dust settle on his boxing gloves and hockey equipment. Piles of clothes littered the room, growing no larger or smaller. Lately, their hitter was ghosting through the world.

Wally pressed closer. Nigel’s breathe hitch when Wally adjusted his position so his bottom hit perfectly at the junction of Nigel’s thighs. His semi-hardness pressed into his best friend before he scooted a fraction. God, the unholy thoughts that creeped through his brain.

Abby took a seat on the side of the bed. The low brim of her hat cast shadows on her beautiful face. “You should tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Kuki immediately asked.

Nigel glanced from Abby to Kuki, then rolled his eyes. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with either one of them, but Abby was too observant, which made her a great field agent, but a terrible companion when he wasn’t even sure how he felt yet. It was vexing and not at all simple like things use to be; should still be in some ways. 

“It’s above your clearance level, kiddo.” Abby gave Kuki a gentle fist bump in the shoulder when the silence stretched too long, and then gently nudged her to stand. 

“Anyways, call us if you need anything. We’ll be right outside the door.”

“Why can’t we stay here and have a slumber party?” Kuki asked. Her attention drifted over the room crowded with various sporting equipment, laundry, empty food containers, long forgotten board games and miscellaneous tidbits. “If we clear some space right over here—”

Abby tugged harder. “What with the questions? They just go on with the yadda and this and that’s … “ 

The door shut behind the two squabbling teammates, leaving the space relatively quiet. The bedside lamp remained on, casting a warm glow over Wally’s angular jaw and pale skin. He watched his best friend sleep, until he started to drift asleep, too. 

 

OOO

 

Wally splashed cold water on his face. It stung his skin, but it helped chase some of the exhaustion that lingered during his waking moments. The nightmares weren’t feeling so much like nightmares any more, which made them worse. His heart raced with endorphins. In turn, the nerves under his skin started to tingle making him hyperaware of his clothes. 

He spun around to face the movement he caught at the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t quick enough. He was shoved unceremoniously against the counter. It didn’t knock the air from his lungs, but his skin pulsed from the adrenaline rush. In seconds, his mind registered the operative who stood before him. It took another couple of seconds for his heartbeat to regulate.

Nigel’s sunglasses sat on top of his head. His gray eyes stared with intensity, boring holes through Wally’s flimsy wall of confidence. This close, he could feel Nigel’s body heat through all the layers of their clothing. 

“You’re distracted,” Nigel stated. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still trying to work through whatever you dropped in my drink last night,” Wally answered. He tried to stay neutral, but his eyes fell from his leader’s eyes, to his nose and lips and back up. 

“For the sake of the mission and your ability to function in our unit, we had no choice. You haven’t slept in days. You agreed to go to the medics months ago, if this didn’t get resolved.” Nigel forcefully made his point by invading Wally’s personal space. The grip on his wrist remained firm. 

This argument was bound to surface, and though he thought of many excuses, they now seemed relevant under his leader’s scrutiny. “I’ve been distracted, yes, but what can a bunch of nerds do for me? I’m not going to take medicine and I’m not going to play test monkey to anything they have brewing up there.”

“Those nerds are the very reason we are still commissioned; however, you’ve giving me doubts on your mental stability,” Nigel said, finally releasing his wrists and stepping back. “That’s why I asked the medic team to make a house call.”

Wally jerked away from the counter. “What? When?” 

The double doors to their co-ed bathroom swung open allowing four elementary kids to walk in, wearing white lab coats and carrying leather doctor bags. Two of them wore headband lights meant for operations or auto repairs. Kuki, Hoagie and Abby nearly towered over the small group they followed,  
Wally gritted his teeth and shifted his weight when he caught Nigel studying him. Too much was at stake. He couldn’t let them realize that he’d been compromised. “Really? You felt you needed enforcement?” 

“If the patient would please take a seat over here.” A young girl, probably third grade, motioned to the bench. She wore her russet hair in a tight braid and her black rimmed glasses magnified her brown eyes. Her round cheeks had a myriad of light freckles, but it didn’t kill her authority.

Wally licked his bottom lip. Stalling went out the window when Nigel’s stare sharpened. “So… is this going to be a public thing?”

“If I could trust you, I’d let you have your privacy.” Nigel kept his arms at his side. There was no tension in his shoulders, but Wally had seen this stance before. Their leader surpassed him in hand-to-hand combat and other more refined battle techniques.

He kicked away from the counter and wiped his wet hands on his t-shirt. The medics crowded the narrow bench, leaving him a small spot among their open bags and equipment. He really didn’t want to place his rump right there, making him a reachable height for their hands to probe and jab.

“It says here that six months ago you took an experimental drug in order to lure and capture the elusive Count.” In big block letters, his nametag read, Lexington. He had a mouthful of metal; braces. 

Wally shifted, already stiff in his low back from the hard wood and inner stress. “Yes. You did my physical for that operation, doc. I passed with flying colors. This isn’t warranted.”

“Any lingering side effects? Mr. Uno is concerned that you aren’t sleeping.” Lexington prattled off his check list on his clipboard. The sleeves on his white doctor’s coat were too long, forcing him to readjust them as he jotted his own notes.

“Nothing,” Wally lied. He wasn’t going to sit in front of his team and explain how the Count terrorized him. He wasn’t going to recount how he was slowly losing his stability each night and worse, he was starting to depend on the euphoria it brought. The high was so addictive. 

The questions continued; one after the other while the others took turns listening to his chest and feeling along his throat. He allowed them to prick his finger.

“Are we done?” He pulled away before the girl could place a Rainbow Monkey bandage on his wound. 

“I would like to examine the bite mark,” Doctor Lexington said.

Wally immediately stood. “Out of the question.”

“Sit down Wally and let the doctor see the mark,” Nigel ordered.

Wally turned towards his leader. If they saw the mark, they would know why he was acting the way he was… They would know that he now shared an intangible link with the Count that nothing could disrupt. He tried. He failed. 

“You can give me orders on the battle field, but my body, sir, is still under my control. I don’t feel a need to start stripping.” Every muscle tightened. If he pressed this too hard, it could be seen as subordination…. But if he got decommissioned would the Count leave him alone? 

Nigel kicked away from the wall, dropping his arms to his side. “Wally, how we go forward with this, right now, is your choice.”

Heat rushed to his face, which added to his embarrassment. He couldn’t get decommissioned. He’d be a sitting duck and he wouldn’t remember why when the Count showed up.

He pulled his sweatshirt over his head. The bathroom was cool, but it didn’t penetrate the heat that rushed to the surface of his skin. They were going to see the mark. He caught the collar of his shirt and stretched it over his shoulder to reveal the cotton bandage taped to his skin. He didn’t have to directly look at anyone to know they were confused. The mission injury was six months old, as far as they knew. 

“Why did you wrap the scar?” Nigel asked. 

Wally played his fingers over the edge of the tape. He could lie. He just wasn’t good at it, for some reason. His parents bought just about anything he said, but Nigel saw the finer holes in his lies.

“Does it matter?” He was past grumpy and it was getting painfully obvious that he was stalling.

“Please remove your hands or take the bandage off yourself,” Doctor Lexington ordered. 

The treehouse alarms blared, sending the large red emergency lights spinning. The team went into motion, but Nigel stood watching him a second longer.

“This isn’t over, Wally,” Nigel warned. He slid his sunglasses on and walked out of the door. 

Wally stayed back to catch his breath. That was incredibly close. Too close.

He had an inkling in the pit of his gut that Nigel was starting to piece it together.

 

oOo

 

The fight was rough. Wally wouldn’t want it to play out any other way. 

It hurt now, as his adrenaline bottomed out. The water drops found bruises and the tender spots in between. He ran the washrag over his torso and limbs multiple times until pink splotches appeared on his skin. He turned the water off, toweled dry, brushed his teeth and for the first time in his entire life, put lotion on his skin.   
His body was exhausted. So was his mind, but the second he laid in bed, he knew he’d never fall sleep. He stared at the ceiling with one thing on his mind; bone deep euphoria. He knew only one source. And he needed it badly. 

Oh. So. Bad.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he jumped out of bed and grabbed his jeans. It didn’t take long to get dressed, slip on sandals and grab his car keys. He slid out of the house and across the yard to his car.

The state penitentiary was forty miles outside the city lines. Forty minutes of that drive would be on a dark road. There were many good reasons not to do this. He didn’t allow himself to list even one.

He flipped the radio off when the station turned to static. The lights that surrounded the penitentiary came into view before the silence grew too heavy.   
He should have better judgment. He shouldn’t be out this late at night to see an enemy. 

Yet… here he was, pulling onto a side road only big enough for two cars. The prison was lit up by a number of high beams that chased all shadow off the prison yard. He parked and went to the buzzer on the gate, pressing it down until someone came out.

The guard took one look at him and frowned. “You again? Don’t you have school in the morning?”

Wally huffed. “I’m here to see the Count.”

“Kid, if I were your daddy, I’d blister your butt for being here this late at night and at a prison no less,” the man argued. The rest of his rant turned into mumbling.

“I’m not breaking any rules being here.” Wally fought the desire to fold his arms against the cold and his growing irritation. He didn’t want the guard to fine him   
twitchy. It was funny, now that he was hyper aware of his body, that he could feel every little thing that brushed his skin wrong. 

“A curfew, probably,” the guard mumbled. His keys rattled and clinked against the fence as he opened the gate and allowed Wally in. 

The man said nothing else as he inspected Wally for the same items listed on a caution poster straight in front of him. The guard grumbled his disapproval again when it was clear Wally couldn’t get turned away.

“Kid, I seriously hope you know what you’re doing here. The men housed in this prison…” he finished his thought with a shake of his head and an exasperated huff.  
Wally didn’t respond. He didn’t want to. He knew he was in it bad. 

The path from the gate to the building was long enough for his mind to start ticking off the reasons he should turn back. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t listen. The guard pulled open the heavy steel door and cold air accosted him. He crossed the threshold, ignoring the guilt that started to build in his chest. 

He was lying to Nigel. He was putting everyone in danger.

The guard’s shoes clipped the clean, tile floor. The painted looked dull under the dim lighting, but the place was clean. The hall opened into a processing room. All doors, from what he could tell, needed a key in order to pass. 

“Sign the books,” the guard stated, pushing an old ledger to him. 

The paper was brittle from the people pressing too hard with the pen. He signed anyways, scribbling a fake name like last time. He had three identity cards to prove he was whichever name he chose. It came complete with a matching library and school card. The guard didn’t ask for any of this.

“Have Mario get the Count,” the guard told the man behind the bullet proof window. 

Wally tampered down his nervousness as he watched the man pick up the phone and dial a number. It felt like the phone would never ring back as they waited in utterly, uncomfortable silence. Finally, the man gave them thumbs up. The door on the opposite wall buzzed and the guard was in motion, pushing the door open and allowing him to step in first.

“Last chance to ditch this meeting, kid,” the guard said. When he didn’t answer, the man muttered and motioned for him to follow.

He adjusted his hoodie as they passed under the ceiling cameras; he counted twelve. The doors had no windows and he wasn’t surprised when the guard opened the door and allowed him to step in. The room felt icy, though he was suddenly sweating under his hoodie. The single bulb allowed so much shadow.

“You held out longer than I thought you would.” The Count’s masculine, cultivated tone floated from the corner of the room. 

Wally pushed back his hood. “I told you to leave me alone, but you don’t listen.”

“So you came to tell me in person?” His chuckle was less than encouraging. The darkness shifted and tightened, pulling from so many corners as it took form. The Count stood tall in his orange prison suit that hugged his lithe form. His slick, black hair remained pristine. 

He swallowed the biting comment on the tip of his tongue. He was suddenly feeling shy. He looked away first, then promptly cleared his thoughts and stared right at the vampire.

“What do I need to do to get you to leave me alone?” That wasn’t the real question. The real question was; how did he overcome this strange addiction? 

The predator in front of him, smirked. “Do you really want me to leave you alone?”

Wally rubbed at his eyes before he even realized by doing this, he no longer had a direct visual of his enemy. He dropped his hands, but the haze remained in his vision. It felt like helium slowly replaced everything solid about him; organs, muscles, bone…

“Strip.” One word, but still an order.

He was use to taking orders; was great at following directions. He had his hoodie and shirt over his head before he could analyze the merits of disobeying. He had his belt unlatched before he snapped out of the heavy haze. “You’re controlling me!”

“Don’t seem so surprised Mister Beatles. We are beyond this,” the Count had the audacity to look bored. 

Wally gritted his teeth and bent down to swipe his shirt off the ground. Long fingers wrapped around his arm and directed him up against the wall. His shirt slid from his fingers. 

“You want to be a good pet, Wally. You want to make your master happy.” The Count’s pupils were a fraction darker than his irises. 

The Count leaned in and Wally shut his eyes and tilted his head. His breath hitched when cold lips pressed against his skin. The feathery kisses preceded a possessive growl. His breath hitched when the vampire licked up his neck, leaving a cold, wet line against his skin. The kisses became possessive as the Count drew circles around the older bite marks. 

“Can’t get caught.” The kisses stilled. His heart started to speed up. Would the Count take this away from him? Did he risk everything to be here for nothing in return?  
The older man’s fingers slid from Wally’s arms to his hips, drawing a gasp from his mouth. He tried to swallow the sound, by sealing his lips, but the Count chuckled against him. The orange jumpsuit fabric scratched at his bare skin, leaving him hyperaware of his body. 

“Never, baby boy. I will never leave you wanton, as long as you promise never to leave me cold.” He dotted that statement by thrusting their hips together.   
Wally startled. A cocky smirk stretched the Count’s mouth, proving he heard right. He’d never get use to the vampire’s ability to read his thoughts.

“Take off your pants.” The order was whispered against the cusp of his ear. 

His crotch twitched at the command. Was his body actually responding to this? “I… I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry Mister Beatles, I know exactly what I’m doing.” The vampire traced along his jaw and down his neck. 

 

oOo

 

The Count kept his attention on Wallaby Beatles face as he helped the young man step out of his cargo shorts and boxers. He leaned in, breathing in the masculine musk that followed every young stud sporting a healthy libido. The athlete remained flaccid against the tight, dark blond curls.

Like this, naked with goose bumps pebbling his skin, he looked vulnerable. For all his loud, brass behavior, the teen easily blushed. The Count took this opportunity to lick along the valley of muscle that shaped the operative’s inner thigh. Wallaby would always depend more on his speed than weight. Though the athlete worked out, his lithe structure would never expand like the professional athletes of this era. 

The operative sighed and dropped his head back. His fingers spread wide against the wall, searching for purchase, or a way to escape, but the operative didn’t resist. His long legs slid wider, drawing focus to his sun-kissed skin that held the barest traces of reflective daylight. The Count licked over muscle to the inner thigh. He repeated the action, eliciting shivers from his toy. The kid was addicted. 

He flicked his tongue over the piss slit. Wallaby sank against the wall, moaning. Free will completely left the human. The Count did it again before pulling the athlete’s mushroom tip into the heat of his mouth. 

Wallaby drew his bottom lip between his teeth before letting out a soft moan. “Plea… please.”

He sucked on his hard flesh, devouring the precome before abandoning Wallaby’s cock in favor of the operative’s silky sac. It’d been centuries since he took a lover and had almost forgotten the way a feral man tasted at their prime breeding age. 

“I’m an old man, Mister Beatles, do not make me wait another minute to hear what you have to say.” He teased by sucking Wallaby’s nuts into his mouth. He could almost taste the hot, musky spunk protected by the testes within the scrotum.

“I can’t be… I can’t be doing this. God… umph… they’ll… they’ll know… uh!” His words loss clarity when the Count sucked the young man’s cock back into his mouth while fondling his sac. 

“Calm yourself. I didn’t hurt you last time and I will not hurt you this time.” He stroked Wallaby’s outer thighs as he spoke, unsure why he wanted to pacify the youth that caused him so many issues. Yet, here he was, meaning exactly what he said. 

Wallaby’s head remained tilted back, choosing to focus on the ceiling. “This is so wrong. You’re our enemy.”

“Am I?” Pleasure coursed through him when Wallaby grunted. The youth wasn’t so sure and that brought him more gratification then turning this little virgin into his dotting slave. He stroked Wallaby’s thighs until the tension eased enough for him to allow his legs to be parted. 

“I’ve been compromised. I’m putting everyone in danger…” His words remained slurred, drunk on the pheromones the Count pressed into the air specifically for his pray.

“Absolutely everyone, Wallaby.” Though he could care less about the tree house or the brats-next-door. 

Every inch of hot skin he touched, the young man’s warmth seeped into his flesh, allowing him the part of the world that would never be his; the daylight and all the warmth the came with it.

“This is disgraceful,” Wallaby moaned, opening his legs wider.

“Utterly disgusting,” he cooed in response as he drew his fangs in circles against the femoral artery, loving the moans elicited from his prey. He loved how Wallaby fought his desires. 

“Nigel….”

The Count pressed his fangs into the perk flesh. Blood rushed over his lips and tongue; down his throat in hot rivers. He could taste everything that made up Wallaby’s day; his sugar intake, his oxygen levels, his testosterone and white blood cells. It painted a picture of his life with every frantic gulp the Count could swallow. 

Wallaby turned boneless, forcing the Count to place his hand flat on his bare, hot belly to keep him against the wall. The operative moaned as his hips started the natural procession of humping. A clear, viscous liquid seeped from the youth’s penis. The scent permeated the air in the small room. The Count moved his hand down from the athlete’s tight stomach to his even tighter shaft, slowly stroking as he suckled from the slit he made in his skin. 

It didn’t take long before Wallaby’s balls drew up. The Count happily moved the direction of his focus to his mushroom tip; his mouth now both hot and wet from the blood. Wallaby watched him with hazy eyes; his pupils so large that he looked utterly trashed.

“We shouldn’t…” he threw his head back as the orgasm hit him hard. 

Spunk, hot like his blood, but with a taste so utterly different and still full of life, slid down his throat. He kept Wallaby pinned to the wall as he took every last bit of sperm. It was so utterly delicious. He wanted more, but the guard would be back.

The man left Mister Beatles in longer this time, and still, there were no distant footsteps indicating that he’d be coming any time soon to collect him. The Count stood and gathered Wallaby in his arms. The young man shivered. 

Like this, the hitter was utter putty in his hands, allowing himself to be pulled to the stone floor and arranged so that he laid his head on the Count’s chest while the Count played with his long, blond locks.

He liked this foul mouthed, rowdy human, passive like so. He found it gratifying that the human allowed himself to be cuddled, which wasn’t a part of Mister Beatles hardcore, independent personality. He didn’t fight the Count’s other hand that gently rolled up and down his spine. He didn’t argue or jerk away at being pulled almost on top of the Count’s hips, letting his leg fall between the Count’s in total submission. 

He absolutely loved this timid, strung-out Wallaby Beatles. 

And love, for someone his age, was utterly surprising.


	4. Run, Run, Runaway Hitter

Wally rolled onto his stomach and stretched his muscles as he laid in the confines of his bed. The downy pillow and comforter locked in the heat his body desperately craved. His sensitive skin felt every tiny aberration with the stitching. Even the seams in the clothing were uncomfortable. 

That’s why, when he was alone, like right now, he liked to take all his clothes off and burrow into the nest of sheets, having dragged extra from the linen closet. They smelled like home and helped trap his heat against his body without feeling overly suffocating. 

“Wally, we need to talk.” 

Wally pulled the sheets back and stared at Nigel standing in his doorway. The door had been locked. “Fuck! How did you get in my house? Did you pick the lock?”   
Nigel flipped the light switch on, forcing fluorescent light to fill the space. “I’m serious. We need to talk about these last couple of days.”

Wally pulled the covers back over his head. It was no good. The fabric couldn’t dampen the glow. “What is there to talk about? I have a headache. I’m sick. I can’t go to school.” 

He strained to hear the hushed footfalls against the shag carpet that had been in the house since they moved into the house. His leader’s shadow fell over the fabric. His heart raced. What was there really to talk about? It was embarrassing enough that he had this strange symbiotic relationship with the Count. 

He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Nigel’s question didn’t hold an ounce of humor. It didn’t even suggest the slightest hint of levity. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been ready for a science test.” His warm breath pressed back against his face. 

Nigel grabbed the covers and yanked them back, out of his grip. “Wally, I’m going to ask politely, only once. Please come to the station and get a full physical exam.”  
He barely spared one of the sheets before his entire naked body was on full display; not that he hadn’t used the community shower his entire life with the whole team present. Nudity had never been an issue, until now. “I politely decline your offer. I don’t need the medical staff prodding me.”

“This isn’t up for debate. Get dressed or I’ll drag you to the station as you are.” Nigel walked over to the dresser and yanked the drawer open. He grabbed the first pair of jeans he saw and tossed them to the bed, then pulled another drawer open and grabbed a shirt. 

“Can I have the privacy?” Wally asked, sliding his feet over the side, but keeping the blanket up. The whole situation made him feel like a Victorian diva, but lately, he’d been feeling exposed. 

“You’ve proven a liability when left alone.” His words cut like a well aimed knife.

“Aye, aye captain, my captain,” he grumbled, trying to hold the sheet up around his waist as he wiggled into his jeans. It was awkward and the seam was uncomfortably aligned with his bare ass and balls. He dropped the sheet and turned his back to reach for the shirt.

“Wally, stop,” Nigel ordered. Nigel caught his upper arm with gentle, but commanding strength that stopped him from moving. His lead pulled him back, so close that he thought his bare back would touch Nigel’s shirt.

“Nigel?” He broke the silence. Despite his leader’s hand on his upper arm, the stillness in the room made him feel alone again. Nigel was inches from his shoulder, yet, he couldn’t even feel his leader’s breath on his bare skin.

“You went to see him.” That wasn’t a question. 

Wally licked his lips and fought the shudder. Lie! Lie! Lie! He couldn’t stand Nigel Uno, the greatest operative alive knowing how weak he was. “They’re old wounds.”

“Wounds, as in double the amount you should have, Wally, so again, you went to the prison to see him?” Nigel tightened his hold, rightfully so. Wally wanted nothing more than to slip away from this dire conversation that made him the focal point. 

It wasn’t a bad idea, but he wasn’t brave enough to go against his lead. Nigel was already accepted into a prestigious university and had a spot with the government when he graduated. Someone with that caliber of strength and skill couldn’t be beat. 

He jerked out of Nigel’s hold, surprised that his lead allowed it. He pulled his shirt on, already hating the way the fibers scratched at his skin. “I can handle myself, you know. I’m the one that takes care of the team. Not the other way around.”

And once they graduated, no one would need him. Hoagie was heading to MIT in Cambridge. Abigail was heading to Harvard, following her dad in the medical industry. She also talked about getting dual masters in technology. Kuki would be spending her college years in Japan, planning to get a degree in language and social studies. 

His plans were limited. He wasn’t smart like them. His best future decision was to join the marines, the navy or the army. That is, until the situation with the Count happened.

“Being part of a team means that many of the duties are a two-way street. I thought you knew you could trust me with any of your problems.” There was evident dismay in Nigel’s tone.

“It’s done, okay. Game over. It’s not worth your concern and I sure as hell don’t want it to become anyone’s issue.” Besides his own, because Lord knows, he couldn’t stop the Count’s incessant mumblings. 

“You’re pale. You’re always cold. Your eyes are dilated like a drug addict. You’re emotional. You’re unpredictable. You’re making rash decisions without consulting me. You’re sleeping in class. You lost your lust for the field. You’re my hitter. It. Concerns. Me. When was the last time you saw the Count?”

“Last night. Okay. I’m putting in my notice. I want to be decommissioned.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You’re not in control of me!” His anger surged. He fisted his hands to keep from grabbing the closest thing to him and aiming it at Nigel’s head.

“I’m sorry we did this to you without more research behind the connection a vampire has with its prey, but I’m not going to let the Count ruin your life. Tough love, Wallaby Beatles, but I’m in charge of your safety and right now, I deem you dangerous to your wellbeing.” Nigel officially ended the conversation on that note. 

“Are you kidding? This is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m not going to sit here and defend my decision to you.” He started towards his door, expecting resistance. There wasn’t any. When he made it to the living room, he saw why. His team, plus a few members of the teen-kid alliance stood in his living room. This was humiliating. 

“Wally!” Kuki was far more excited to see him than he was at seeing her. 

“Wallaby Beatles, you are officially being apprehended by the kid-teen alliance until the situation with the Count is settled and your ties are permanently severed,” the new leader of KND announced. The curly red-headed boy held up an official parchment, stamped with the KND seal.

Wally’s heart slammed in his chest. If he ran, he’d look like a coward. Worse, he’d FEEL like a coward. He gritted his teeth. “What are you going to do, force me back to the station? I don’t want your help. I want to be decommissioned. I want to continue my life like a normal teen.”

“You think your relationship with the Count is normal? He’s a vampire, Wally. He is literally using you.” Nigel took a step closer. In cargo shorts and polo shirt, Nigel was a mix of preppy and dangerous. 

“Don’t judge me! You have no idea what this is.” And frankly, he didn’t either. He wasn’t going to say they were dating and that he wanted to be with the Count forever. He just didn’t mind the euphoria that bloodletting gave him.

Oh man! This was such a mess. 

“So this is about the bite?” Abigail asked.

“Bites as in more than one. Two on the shoulder for sure, but I suspect others.” Nigel informed. 

Wally worried his lower lip before he realized what he was doing. He straightened his posture. It would do nothing for everyone present if they knew how exposed he felt. “Apparently the trust has been broken, and with good reason. So again, I’m asking to be decommissioned. Nothing more. I don’t want the medical help. I don’t want therapy or anything else you push the teen alliance through. I just want to be let go.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nigel said. Something broke in their lead, something he’d seen a handful of times over their decade of friendship; pure, unfiltered exhaustion. He was tired of the fight.

“Yes it is. I said it. Everyone heard me say it. I want out.” He couldn’t believe this personal moment in his life was being shared by his entire team and a handful of others. This was top on his most humiliating moments in his life.

The Count could feel his stress. In turn, a headache bloomed at the back of his eyes. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut. There was too much light filtering in through the open curtains. 

Nigel firmly grasped his shoulder, right over the bite marks. “What’s wrong?”

The friction from his touch, combined with the heat and the rub of fabric, sent Wally spinning. His body’s reaction was instant. His pelvis tightened. He gritted his teeth, barely suppressing the moan that lurched from his gut. The orgasm was on the brink of existence. 

He tried to push Nigel back, but his effort was weakened by his state of mind. He couldn’t stand everyone present while his body took such wanton pleasure from the euphoria the bites constantly offered. Every nerve danced like live wires under his skin. 

“Talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Concern overrode Nigel’s anger. He stood so close that every breath Wally took was filled distinctly of his captain’s sandalwood body wash and fresh-rain laundry detergent. 

His captain’s scent was clearer now, and though it wasn’t something Wally should’ve been this attuned too, he rested his forehead against Nigel’s neck, and focused on breathing. “I need to lie down.”

He didn’t expect to be lifted off his feet. He had no idea Nigel was even capable of lifting his weight. It made him feel petite… so utterly safe like someone else was strong enough to take his burdens. He quickly built a wall around the emotions that were threatening to drown him on another subject he didn’t need.

Nigel sat him on the edge of the bed. “This thing you have with the Count isn’t going to continue. At any cost, I promise you, I’m going to set you free.”

“Four months.” 

Nigel frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“School ends in four months. Add another three and you’re leaving for college. It doesn’t matter what I do after that. It’s my life and it won’t concern you.”

“Don’t be concerned with the mechanics. I’ll figure this out.” Nigel watched him a second longer before leaving the room. 

Wally held his breath and strained his ears, but he couldn’t distinguish what was being said in the living room. He was sure Nigel was leaving him with guards. This was getting messy.

 

oOo

 

Nigel stepped into the frigid cell holding the Count. There were no bars or windows. The walls were gray cement from floor to ceiling with no vent for air circulation and no cameras to monitor the interaction. The cell held no bed, sink or toilet. He doubted the Count needed any of it. The single bulb placed inside a carved out hole in the ceiling, gave dim light that allowed thick shadows at all corners of the room.

“Don’t play games with me Count, or I’ll find a reason they should keep you here for another decade,” Nigel threatened. He kept his back to the wall, but had the distinct feeling it would do him very little good with a vampire.

A raspy chuckle stirred the deeper shadows. “I knew you’d eventually come. I could tell that you aren’t one for sharing your toys.”

“He’s not a toy.” Nigel growled. Every fiber of his being wanted to lock in on the Count and rip the man apart; pull his undead heart from his chest and stomp on it. Every few things could make him this primal. Apparently, anything effecting his team was undoubtedly his trigger.

“This is a challenge then? Best man wins the little submissive pet?” The Count solidified in front of him. His wide grin showcased his long fangs against the red of his mouth. 

“Is that all it will take? A simple challenge and you’ll leave my hitter alone?” Nigel asked. His exhale of breath left fog swirling in the air.

The Count’s eyes widened. The brown in his irises looked almost like rich, dark chocolate in the strange lighting. “You feel for him? How deep do those emotions run, Nigel? What would you be willing to do for your hitter? And don’t lie. It’s not becoming of a man with rank.”

“I will take this as far as it needs to go,” he said.

The Count nodded. “I see it now. You like him much more than you should. It’ll never work, but you must know that. He does.” 

“That’s not your concern,” Nigel answered. His anger was starting to cloud his thoughts. The room was freezing and smelled like the frost in a meat locker. 

The Count tapped the edge of his temple. “Wally’s thoughts are for me to consume. Soon, I will devour every concern he wavers on until you and your team are forgotten. He won’t fight this. He has nothing else.”

“We’ll see about that Count. This isn’t over.”

“Nigel Uno, I do suggest you walk away from this. You don’t have the ability to satisfy a submissive of Mister Beatles extreme.”

“I guess maturity doesn’t come with age. I thought after four hundred years, you’d be above a proverbial pissing match,” Nigel shot back. 

The door rattled and the guard silently waited with an expensive goggle set over his eyes. He kept his attention firmly on the room. That was Nigel’s cue to leave. He glanced back at the Count, but the vampire had vanished back into the dark corners of the dreary cell.

Nigel crossed the threshold, grateful for the warm hallway. It made his blood flow again, though his anger also helped. He brought a hand to his ear. “Did you catch all of that?”

“Sure did. This is seriously messed up. It’s like he’s keeping Wally on an invisible leash,” Abby answered. The keys on her keyboard echoed back on the connection.  
“I need everything you can find on the BDSM community. I want reference books, articles, rules, regulations, a list of tools,” he rattled the tiny bit he suspected about that world. 

“Taking up a new hobby, boss?” Abby’s tone held a tinge of humor. He could almost see her smirk, despite the distance.

“If I’m going to win this, yes.” But the prize in question wasn’t some little trophy he could keep on his shelf. 

The prize here was a very living, intelligent being that would eventually get hurt if he dropped his guard for a second. What did it mean to have a submissive? To be utterly in control of another’s life? He had to figure this out and fast, if this was the game the Count played… 

 

oOo

 

Wally dropped his plastic fork into the mashed potatoes and pulled on the durable rubber band equipped with micro electronics settled into the interior. “This is worse than house arrest. I don’t think the police bother monitoring heart rates too!”

“Your bio-rhythms are important in calculating the exact influence—” Hoagie huffed when an elbow went into his side.

“Kid, it’s your fault for trying to be so secretive,” Abby finished where their engineer left off. She stabbed her meatloaf and dragged it through the ketchup. 

It wasn’t a surefire way to tell when the Count mentally channeled their hitter. The device was fairly new, given to them only the night before so they’d have it for the school week and beyond. Problem was, Wally’s incredibly slow heart rate was alarming. 

“Technically, I didn’t do anything wrong. This is a breach of my civil rights!” Wally’s voice rose as he pushed his tray away from him. Even his soda remained untouched. 

“Someone’s finally paying attention in government class,” Kuki teased. She tossed a berry shaped fruit snack at Wally.

The cafeteria doors slammed open and Wally glanced at the racket. His blond hair drifted over his shoulders, soft with curls. Their hitter had admitted in the past that he felt self-conscious of the curls when they’d been kids. He never let his hair grow much longer than the standard cut he usually sported.

“Medical said they could meet us at the treehouse sometime after five,” Abby said. She sat beside Wally and had about as much interest in eating as the rest of them. Their team took a real hit on this. 

“I will still be at practice at five,” Wally said, then glanced up, catching Nigel’s eyes. Over the course of the weekend, his pupils went back to normal. His gray eyes didn’t spark the way they use to. They were almost dull; the life almost snuffed from them.

“Can we have the medical team meet in the locker room at five?” Abby asked. 

Wally huffed. “What am I supposed to tell my coach? That I have another meeting within an hour of being at practice? Can’t this wait until I get back to the tree house?”

“Yo, Beatles!” Ace, captain of the Jasmine Jumpers High School football team, hollered from across the room as a small fraction of the team seized a lunch table towards the large windows. 

Wally glanced over at Nigel, silently asking for permission. Something in Nigel’s gut tightened, leaving him with a sense of great authority and a sense of duty. Both were confusing, but not unpleasant. Holy Moly! Had this always been right under his nose and he hadn’t seen it in the past? For all his loud, brass, temperamental moments, Wally had a submissive personality! 

“We’ll catch up later.” Nigel nodded for him to go.

Wally gladly grabbed his tray and left their table. His strut wasn’t as pronounced as he easily dodged students and made it over to the jocks. Somehow, he looked smaller among them. Maybe it was his long hair and thinner body structure or the fact that he was just about the shortest member of the team.

“So what is the real game plan? Are you going to become Numbuh Four’s dominant? Can I help pick out his collar? I was thinking something pink and studded would be super cute with his blond hair!” Kuki asked.

Nigel choked on his drink. “That’s pretty forward. Besides, I was thinking the first plan of operation would be to get him mentally evaluated.”

Kuki shrugged. “It’s the truth isn’t it? Wally needs someone to replace the Count.” 

Heat rushed up the back of Nigel’s neck. Was he that transparent on his thoughts? He took another swallow of his water before finally answering. “Yes. I don’t want to force Wally’s hand, but I feel this has to be his decision if he wants me to—”

“Jeeze!” Kuki made the most obnoxious sound in her annoyance. “Everyone! And I mean everyone can see that the two of you carry a torch for each other. It’s so disgusting how many times in a day you both glance at each other behind the other’s back. Just get it started.”

Nigel glanced at Hoagie and Abby who were both nodding and had a look of pity. Nigel scrubbed a hand over his face. “So everyone knows. Great.”

“Not the idiot you just let walk away,” Abby said. She casually pointed towards the jock table with her plastic fork.

“You should kiss him and give him something else to focus on, besides the Count I mean,” Kuki said. A blush touched her cheeks that made Nigel lift an eyebrow.

“Your idiot is walking out the door with the team,” Abby said, drawing his attention to the large group leaving the cafeteria. 

He started to stand, then stopped and sat back down. He couldn’t follow his hitter around campus when there was work to do. He glanced at the monitor watch he wore. If Wally got in trouble, it would alert him. Same goes if his hitter tried to leave the school yard. Time to do some real research and leave the babysitting to the watch monitor.

 

oOo

 

Wally woke with a start, grasping the desk with open palms and trying to breathe through the warm haze that expanded through his body. The last remnants of his orgasm milked through his nervous system leaving him both flushed and high. 

He glanced at the teacher droning away at the chalkboard. He didn’t dare glance back at Kuki and Abby who sat a few seats over. No one else watched him. Good. The sex had felt so loud in his dream, but apparently he hadn’t made a sound. 

The only proof of his sin started cooling, making his boxers stick to his inner thighs and the rest of him down there. He was embarrassed. The Count doing things to him like this in public left him feeling vulnerable and diminutive. And there was no one to hug. No one to tell him that it was okay to feel this good without the strong, inner Catholic guilt.

He slid his head into the crook of his arm and sighed. Yep. There it was. Nothing but guilt. As if thinking about God wasn’t bad enough, he also had his parents’ voices in his head, praising his good behavior. Good boys didn’t do things like this. Good boys didn’t feel utterly trashed like his spirit tried to separate from his body when he was in some elevated state of mind.

“Feeling sick! Have to go to the nurse!” Wally yelled in the quiet of the room, grabbing his backpack and swinging it onto his shoulders. He didn’t hear his teacher’s answer before he slid into the hallway determined to make a mad dash to the locker room to shower off his sinful nature and change his clothes. 

Nigel patiently waited against the lockers directly in front of the classroom. Wally glanced back as the door slid silently shut. Abby must have texted their leader the minute he fell asleep… Maybe.

“What’s up, Wally?” Nigel asked. He kicked away from the lockers, looking almost casual if it weren’t for the tale-tell signs of his true leadership nature. Nigel was never fully in a relaxed state of mind. 

Wally rolled his eyes and hefted his backpack over his shoulder and started walking. Every step was a reminder how easily his body responded to the Count. “The locker room if you must know. I need to shower.”

Nigel fell in step beside him, leaving him nervous. Please, please, please! To any God listening, good or bad, please do not let Nigel intend on following him to the locker room and worse, stick around. 

Someone was listening. It wasn’t the god or devil he intended either. The minute his thoughts took form, a new heat started to coil in his stomach. No! Not now! 

Every step only encouraged the nerve sensitivity in his shaft and balls. The heat and wetness from his earlier release didn’t help either. Not good! So not good!

Please. Please. Please. Do not make me orgasm in front of my leader! Please! I’ll visit you tonight. Please don’t do this to me.

The answer was so soft. A bare ghostly whisper that brushed his brain. “You will do whatever I say, anyways, Mister Beatles. Absolutely anything. Anywhere. When I want it.”

“Are you okay?” Nigel stood so close. He hadn’t even seen his lead close the distance between them. Warm hands gripped his upper arms. For a second, it felt like Nigel was literally the only reason he was still standing.

“I don’t think I can qualify for okay.” Wally answered. His voice raised an octave with his jittery nerves. He jerked out of Nigel’s hold and veered into the bathroom, grateful for the four walls that shielded him from the rest of the school.

Before he could push the lock into place, Nigel shoved the door open, pushing him back. Now there were two of them in this tiny space and this was going to happen. His body was already tight. His breathing grew shallow with every tingly nerve set on fire, ready to make his balls burst again. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wally hissed at him, dropping his backpack. It was too heavy. He used the wall for support. The cool tiles pressed through his shirt brought a great deal of relief even if they couldn’t clear his mind and push the brakes on his situation. 

Nigel stepped into his space, hands on his hips gently guiding him to the floor. Wally rested with his knees bent and open for his lead. Nigel kneeled there, cupping his chin with gentle strength. The wave of pleasure hit him. He gritted his teeth to keep silent, but he couldn’t fight the shiver that hitched his breath and nearly bowed his back. 

It was good. It was always so, so, so good.

When the wave of pleasure dissipated, he found his lips pressed against Nigel’s. He quickly broke it. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry.” 

Did he initiate it? He must have. Nigel wouldn’t have. His body was liquid heat; inside and out. He took a deep, slow breath and didn’t like how clear his head became.

They remained where they were and he wanted to do it again. He really, really, really wanted that. But he didn’t deserve the comforting hold Nigel kept on his shoulders. 

“Not as sorry as I am,” Nigel promised. His leader searched his face, cupping his chin and leaning in to kiss him again. 

Wally sighed into it. He’d never really kissed anyone before, besides the quick, obligatory peck he gave his mom before rushing off to school, but there was no escaping that. 

This, though… was not a quick little air kiss. This kiss burned from his lips down to his curled toes. He opened his mouth; really not sure what he was doing, but Nigel took control, pushing his tongue between his lips and teeth. 

Wally melted into him.

oOo

“The red dot says they’re like hanging out in the bathroom or something,” Kuki read the red beep her mobile phone. They stopped in front of the blue door marking the boy’s bathroom.

Abigail shoved past her, hand on the door and ready to push in when Hoagie grabbed her wrist and moved just ahead of her. “What if there are guys in there. You can’t just barge in like that.”

“I took sex education. I know what a man’s diggle-ling looks like,” Abigail said, her eyes darting downward so Hoagie knew exactly what she was talking about.   
His cheeks reddened and he let her go. “Okay, will, that’s not really the point. I mean, they might not like you just running in there.”

Kuki got around him and shoved the door open. The choked sound she made had him rushing in behind her, only to stop short in his tracks. He knew it! He called it! They had no right just barging into the bathroom.

Wally sat on the floor, legs wide open and Nigel kneeled with their hitter’s chin in his hands. Kissing. Like deep, soul searching kisses. Neither even realized they had company.

“Woah! About time. Calling this one, ‘the day Nigel decided to become a dom.’” Abigail said, snapping a picture just as Hoagie wrestled the phone out of Kuki’s hand. Her screen light up with a message from Abigail.

Hoagie glared at her and gave up, handing Kuki her phone back. “This is intrusive. We don’t have a right announcing this to the world.”

“Relax. It’s not like anyone on the teen-kid alliance didn’t see this coming. In fact, I think I even overheard a few students here questioning their relationship.” Abigail still played with her phone, decorating the picture with a few hearts and a quirky message.

Wally was the first to see them. His eyes were so dazed, but it didn’t take him but a second to comprehend the interruption. His hands slid off Nigel’s shoulders as he pulled away. Nigel glanced back at them and his cheeks turned pink too. 

“I am totes going to make this my screen saver. Add a few Rainbow Monkeys and voilà!” Kuki broke the awkward silence.

“Not cool you guys,” Hoagie reprimanded.

Nigel got to his feet, offering his hand to Wally. A second later, their hitter slid his hand into his and took his help to stand. Hoagie didn’t miss the way Wally leaned forward, but quickly put space between them. 

“I have football,” he said, grabbing his backpack off the ground and pushing past the crew, bumping surprisingly hard into Hoagie and sending him against the wall. The bathroom door slid shut behind him. 

“Boss?” Abby asked.

Nigel shook his head. “It’s fine. He doesn’t have a way to get the bracelet off. We can continue to monitor him from the library. We need to find everything we can on vampires and its direct link to humans.”

“He’s still a virgin, isn’t he?” Hoagie asked. The entire team’s attention darted straight to him. Heat crawled the back of his neck. “I mean, in all the 1980’s horror movies, vampires always went after virgins. I just thought… I mean, maybe… uh… maybe there’s truth in that?”

“We’ve known him since elementary and even then, he never dated. His love is for field work, not other people,” Abby said.

“He did turn down the only girl ever to ask him out to the movies,” Kuki said. Everyone’s attention drifted to her. She shrugged. “What, she sat next to me in class. I overheard her talking to her friends. What she had to say about him wasn’t flattering.”

“Let’s research first and see if there is anything in the books about…” Nigel’s jaw tightened, but it didn’t stop the blush that slid into his cheeks. “Virginity that isn’t just a horror movie ploy.” 

 

oOo

 

He kissed his team leader! He literally opened his mouth and practically begged for Nigel Uno, top dog in the kid-teen alliance, to French kiss him. It. Was. Great.  
And it was so, so wrong. He wasn’t worthy of this. 

He looked down at what he pick pocketed from Hoagie; a few screws, a tiny battery, a couple of tic-tacs and the thin, copper flat looking bar. He pressed it against the bracelet like he’d seen Hoagie do for Kuki when her bracelet needed fixing. The straps unlatched and he caught it, keeping the flat bass at his pulse point with his other hand.

Half of the team hung out at the benches, chatting while the other half stretched at the middle of the field. He didn’t have time to waste crossing the field, so he went straight to the bench, catching Jax’s arms. “Hey dude, do me a solid and put this on, would you?”

Jaxson laughed, taking the bracelet from him and held it up to examine. “Is it one of those health monitor things or something?”

“Yeah. Look, it would really help me out if you’d just put it on and wear it during practice.” Wally glanced back at the school, afraid that at any minute the team would be running out the doors. 

“Not a problem, dude.” Jax pulled the bracelet on and adjusted it, clapped him on the back and took off running.

Wally waited a second. When nothing happened, he took off straight for the parking lot at a light jog. The movement made his head swim, but there wasn’t time to waste. He couldn’t risk getting caught. He knew Nigel. He knew exactly what his captain would do; stick him at the station until this was over. The thought of being segregated from his addiction was too painful. 

His thoughts drifted back to the bathroom, back to being within Nigel’s arms. His captain’s lips dominating his, the way he smelled like warm leather, old books and sword polish, the pure strength…. There was so much power in his arms, shoulders, his pectorals and back.

A sheer headache stabbed through his frontal lobe, twisting his stomach and blurring his vision. 

“Don’t focus on him. He can’t take care of you like I can,” the voice ordered. The Count had heard his thoughts.

Wally nodded as he slid into the front seat of his car. He gripped the steering wheel, trying to balance the throbbing headache and shaking nerves. The heat coming in through the window brought little respite. 

He glanced at his bare wrist with a great amount of guilt. He was purposely going against a direct order. God, if Nigel had just listened to him and allowed him to get decommissioned, he wouldn’t have to lie about this.

“Come baby boy. You deserve a real handler,” the Count lured. 

Wally swallowed hard and nodded. No one was there to see it and he doubted the voice knew he made that movement. He started the car and held his breathe as he drove off the lot. If he breathed too deeply, he was sure he’d throw up. 

 

oOo

 

Nigel flipped through another book before dismissing it to the growing stack in the middle of the table. The librarian, or anyone else for that matter, would think they were crazy if they saw the sheer amount of books pertaining to mythology and legends. Except, he really had no idea why Kuki dragged a copy of Stephen King’s “Salem’s Lot” to the table for research. 

His mobile phone rang and he answered on the second ring, recognizing the number as headquarters. “What’s going on chief?” 

“There was a massive breakout at the Micron Maximum Security Villain Prison. It’s the Count, Agent Uno. I thought you should know, given the situation with your… with your operative.” Numbuh 952 said. 

“Have to go!” He didn’t bother with proper goodbyes. He didn’t even bother putting the books up. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and started out the library as he kept glancing at the watch. Wally’s heart sped with activity, which wasn’t strange since he was on the field.

“What’s going on?” Kuki repeated like a broken record until he swung on her. 

“The Count is on the run. We need to grab Wally and take him to a secure location,” Nigel said. Like that was going to be easy. They’d have to force him into the aircraft and, without a doubt, sedate him. He didn’t really want to fracture their brittle relationship, or whatever that thing back in the bathroom was willing to become if nurtured.

That’s all he had to say before Abby started running top speed towards the field. Embarrassingly, she was almost faster than him, with the small head start, but he gained on her quickly. When they got to the gate that separated the field from the spectators, Nigel scanned the players. 

“His band says he’s here, but I don’t see him,” Kuki said.

Nigel hissed under his breath and glanced at the locator on his wrist. Kuki was right. The locator said he was here. His heartrate was consistent with the players running laps on the field. “How’s this possible? I thought you said he couldn’t take it off.” 

Hoagie threw his hands up in defense. “He can’t. He’d need the….”

“The what?” Nigel asked, scanning the benches in case Wally was having another metaphysical attack and that was what elevated his heart rate. 

Hoagie stuck his hands into his pockets and frown. He dug deeper, sticking his hands into every pocket on his cargo pants and shirt. “He took it. When he bumped into me back in the bathroom. He took the release device. That’s Grade-A pick-pocketing. I didn’t realize we offered that class.”

“It’s not a class an engineer needs,” Abby said. 

Hoagie pushed his goggles up to his forehead. “Hey, I do field work too!”

“Guys, concentrate. We need to find Wally before the Count disappears with him. There aren’t enough operatives alive to search every inch of this planet. If they go off the grid, that’s it.” It took a great deal of strength to keep his tone from wavering. That kiss still burned hot and new against his lips. He couldn’t imagine not having the hot-tempered hitter in his life.

“You can all relax. Wally won this round, but he’s not ahead of me.” Hoagie pulled his mobile from his pocket.

“Can’t relax until we bring our agent home,” Nigel said. It was hard not to snap at any of them. They were a team. They were a family. But none of them understood what losing Wally meant to him.

“I put a tracer on his car a couple days ago. You always said have a backup plan!” Hoagie said. He added more to that statement, under his breath, but none of those words made sense

Elation filled Nigel to no end. “Oh-My-God! Hoagie! I could seriously kiss you.”

“But you won’t, right? I mean, I saw you with Wally just earlier today. It’d be a little weird and I’m married to my work-“ Hoagie started mumbling.

Nigel ignored him. “Everyone get in the car.”


	5. Dead to the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to the readers! I actually didn't expect this plot bunny to gain a following. Thank you so much for your time!

Wally wasn’t sure how far he’d driven, and with the Count’s explicit directions not to use his credit card for gas, he kept glancing nervously at his fuel meter. The point hung dangerously close to the large, red E. 

E for empty, like a large exclamation mark.

“Don’t worry, pet. You’ll see the restaurant in a quarter of a mile.” The voice remained coaxing, filling his head with gray smoke. 

He scanned the tree line that followed the road. The forest was thick with brush. The sunlight barely peaked over the treetops, leaving a great deal of shadow on the road due to the massive trees, hundreds of years older than him. The Count was hundreds of years older than him too. His skin prickled with fear. Why was he doing this? 

He was feeling a great deal of hollowness right now, inside and out. Everything inside him said he should throw on the breaks and call his parents to come and get him. They would ask questions. And they might put him in the hospital for extreme exhaustion… or madness. Would he be a sitting duck in the hospital? Maybe he should’ve taken Nigel’s offer to be held at the Kids Next Door space station until this connection was severed. 

The Count’s chuckle soothed every fine line of worry from his mind and body. He sunk deeper into his chair, barely able to keep his eyes open. The sun was fading behind the trees and the very few cars that passed him, heading towards the city he was leaving behind, all had their lights on. The two bright globes of light from the cars became another strange focus, like very large bugs humming along at top speeds. 

He gripped the wheel, afraid his mind would succumb to the dark promises and he’d wreck the car. His heart elevated with anticipation and a little culpability. There was no heading back. By now, Nigel would’ve noticed the locator was heading in the wrong direction as Jaxson headed home. 

“Mmm, baby boy, I’ll help you permanently forget all your troubles. Just a little farther.” The Count’s voice slid through him, redirecting his thoughts. The space between the trees were getting so dark that it was impossible to see even beyond the lights of the oncoming traffic. 

He switched his lights on, though he wasn’t so sure he needed them. It wasn’t that he could suddenly see in the dark, it was more as if something lead him; like he sat in a toy car on a toy race track. The car remained steady even with his conscious sliding in and out. His mind kept flashing to images that instantly brought euphoria and a little too much excitement that he wasn’t fully use too. The type of excitement that came while dating, something he never really explored, not with all the sports he constantly joined and both his sports teams and his operative team depending on his strength and endurance to see them through. 

“Don’t consider them for another minute.” The Count warned.

His breath hitched as the endorphins slid into his system. He immediately straightened when he realized he was sinking back against the seat and his eyes were drifting shut. The sudden surge of fear erased the immediate comfort. 

He leaned into the wheel, fumbling with the volume button on the radio. Music blasted into near quiet rumble of the car. He rolled the windows down and the wind brushed in with fierceness, batting his hair back against his face. With night fall, the air had a cold bite. It was greatly welcomed. He needed something to cool his overly stimulated jets. 

A little space in the trees had been cleared just off on the right side of the road. A shack, probably didn’t hold much more than eighty people max, sat with Christmas lights glowing and flickering red and green. He had a feeling it wasn’t something the owners ever took down. He could pass it; continue towards the next town and decide what to do from there. He could try and outrun the Count and these cravings…

Yet, he barely felt the finality of his decision as he slowed the car and turned into the gravel lot. His only mentality was autopiloted. He found a free spot towards the back of the lot. The Christmas lights reflected in his review mirror as he turned the car off and sat in the silence. His hands shook when he brushed his fingers through his hair. 

This was madness. 

A tap on the glass window made him jump. His hand was already moving to the door latch as he stared at the pristine black suited torso of his assailant. The Count backed up, giving him room to slide out and shut the door. The keys were still in the ignition and the door unlocked. His heart raced in his chest.

“What did you do to me? I shouldn’t be here.” He hated the uncertainty in his voice. He hated how the very presence of the Count made his heart flutter with a very dark, demented school boy crush. He hated most how he couldn’t turn and walk away from this bizarre behavior of his.

“You’re still incredibly shy after everything I’ve witness in your life this year.” The Count put a hand to either side of him, boxing him up against his car. The metal was still warm from the drive. It brought little comfort. 

“I never gave you permission to be in my head,” Wally growled. Some of his athletic aggression creeped into his tone. He balled his fists with every intention of taking back his life, but the Count caught his jaw and tilted his head so their eyes could meet. Immediately, he felt swallowed by those dark, brown orbs. It left him drowning on dry land. 

“It’s adorable that you still think you have any choice in this matter. You haven’t been in control since the day you allowed me to insert my venom into your body. You gave me that connection. You and your team were so caught up in the win, you never thought of the long-term consequences. It’s beautiful really.” The Count’s fingers became bruising against his jaw bone, tilting his head even farther. 

Wally’s hands flew up to the Count’s upper arms. His panic was real. The bitterness slid into his blood. He could taste it at the back of his throat. “No. Not here, someone will see.”

“There are people watching right now. Look.” The Count’s words were liquid gold edging into all the dry cervices of his brain.

He shifted his weight to follow the Count’s eyes and the vampire allowed it. There were two young men, one in a white cowboy hat and the other in a brown one, standing at the back of their pickup truck. Both watched with open interest. Wally opened his mouth to call to them, to ask them to come and help him, but cold fingers at his chin, drew his attention back to the Count and his inhuman eyes. 

“Be smarter than that, Mister Beatles. I have no quims killing them,” he said. 

Wally swallowed. “Please, not here.”

The Count chuckled as he nuzzled his nose along Wally’s neck. “Mister Beatles, I know you aren’t giving me an order.”

Wally barely shook his head. He swallowed hard when those cold fingers caught the bottom of his shirt. He was back on autopilot, raising his arms and allowing his shirt to come up over his head. The wind felt colder against his skin, filtered by the ominous trees. He could feel the cowboy’s attention. The Count hid nothing of his intentions. 

The Count tossed his shirt onto the roof of the car. “We won’t need this where we’re going.”

“We’re leaving then?” The relief was evident. Even his shoulders slumped with the news that this wouldn’t happen in public. 

He turned to face the car and found himself blinking when he realized what he’d done from the brief squeeze to his hip. His whole body was wired to the vampire’s silent commands. The cowboys were openly staring now, mouths gapped like they were startled this was happening in the parking lot. Wally felt the same. 

“Show them your pretty o-face.” The Count’s words made him burn with embarrassment.

He turned into putty when fangs scrapped along his skin. He sucked the air in, trying to breathe past the tingling promise building at the center of his pelvis. This was so wrong. His conscious screamed for him to fight. 

The pressure from the vampire’s fangs were unbearable. He couldn’t breathe past the initial shock as the twin blades breached his flesh. His blood turned thick, like sheering hot silver had been introduced to his system. The compressive ball of bliss in his pelvis burst and he rode out his pleasure sandwiched between the Count and the car. 

He didn’t want to come down from this. Never. 

 

oOo

 

Dread sat heavily in Nigel’s stomach when yellow police tape prevented them from entering the lot. Hoagie pulled their car off the side of the road and they sat in silence, staring at the flashing lights on the emergency vehicles and police cars. Two news vans were also stationed on the outside of the tape with the reporters backs to the scene. 

“We have to sneak in there,” Nigel said. He pushed the car door open and a gust of cold, damp air rushed into the car. The nights were considerably cooler when surrounded by the forest. The sirens across the street were off, but the lights kept rooving the darkness with their bright colors, brighter than the two streetlamps in the lot. 

“What are we going to say if we get caught? Man, we have very few operatives with the highway patrol.” Abby caught his wrist. Her weight stalled his action. 

His stomach clenched so tightly, he thought he’d vomit. “This has something to do with Wally.”

“Of course, it does. The Count’s been toying with him.” Abby’s voice rose in volume. Stressed like the rest of them. 

She let him go and he crossed the street over to where the reporters fed the cameras information. He caught a few words; severe animal attack, body dragged into the forest, Fish and Wildlife search teams. 

“He did it. He killed Wally,” Kuki said, with disbelief. 

He suddenly couldn’t breathe. A hand on Nigel’s back patted in reassurance. “Until I see a body, Wally will never be dead to me.” 

 

oOo

 

Wally teetered on the brink of unconsciousness; if it weren’t for the resilient sense of dread that grew stronger with each second of awareness. He blinked until his vision cleared enough for him to completely take in his surroundings. There was a wooden roof over his head. He laid on top of a mattress, but that didn’t help with the stiffness that went muscle deep. 

He felt like a cadaver.

He rolled onto his side and sighed. It took so much energy and his brain wanted to shut back off. 

“Your body will get used to the blood loss and your recovery will start adjusting.” The Count’s rich tone stretched from the shadowy corners of the room.  
They were alone. He could sense that, even before his eyes and brain buffered enough to make sense of his circumstance. He forced himself upright, barely catching the sheet before it fell from his naked thighs. Crap. Even his boxers were now neatly folded on top of the rest of his clothes on a wood rocking chair. A fire burned in the fireplace, not that the Count needed it.

Wally jutted his chin at the fireplace. “Am I supposed to be indebted for this small favor?” 

“In time, when your anger has passed,” the Count responded.

“They’ll come for me. They aren’t going to let this rest.” And he shouldn’t either. At least that part of his brain was functioning again. It was like waking from a lucid dream. Everything inside him said he had to get out of here, but where here was, he didn’t know. 

“I expect they will, for a while, until they have ample reason to believe you’re dead,” the Count said.

Wally brought the sheets closer to his body. He was cowering. He never cowered; not on the field and not when facing danger. “I’ll never stop fighting this.”

The Count materialized. “It pains me to see you battling with your new life, so I’ll fix it.”

Wally barely scooted across the bed before the vampire was on top of him. He screamed and thrashed, trying to kick him off, but his limbs only met with air. The weight became suffocating. 

Sharp incisors pierced his skin forcing a moan from his lips. He pressed his backside against the Count’s fully dressed body. The vampire’s starch pressed clothing felt too rough against all his sensitive skin. His body coiled with heat until he was screaming into the pillow with his pleasure and release. 

The obscured voice in his head continued to whisper, but be barely comprehended. “You are alone. You are mine. There is no one in this world you want to be with. There is no one in this world you know. You travel with the vampires. You must never trust the humans.”

“Are you going to make me a vampire?” Talking left his throat raw. His eyes burned with tears. He was crying. He’d never been so afraid in his life and he couldn’t deny it now.

“You’re not worthy of the vampire blood, Wallaby. You are my beloved donor and the humans will kill you just as quickly for it.” The Count’s cultured voice filled the silence. “You only have me. Only me, baby boy. Repeat that out loud.”

“No.” He tried to fight again, but the mist held tightly to his limbs, locking him down against the bed. “No! I will never be yours.”

“You already are.” 

 

oOo

 

It took two days of aimless wandering and backtracking before a possible path was found. Staying out of the way of the search and rescue teams made the process drag. On the fourth day, the search and rescue found clothing shreds and shards of bone. That’d been two days ago. The waiting kept his stomach sour.

Nigel came back into camp. “Come on guys, it’s time to go.”

“Nigel, stop.” Hoagie said. 

Nigel didn’t immediately stop until a hand caught his shoulder. It wasn’t Hoagie. It was Abigail who had stopped him. He searched her face, but she remained guarded.

“Man, you need to hear this,” Abigail said.

Nigel’s chest tightened. He turned to Hoagie who had his computer open and on his lap. Kuki was the only one with red eyes, but there was no proof she’d been crying. The dread dropped from his chest to his stomach. 

“The DNA results for the bio material found, came through this morning,” Hoagie said. His goggles were up on top of his head. His eyes were red rimmed and soft; sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Nigel. Wally’s dead.”

“They don’t know that. A few shards of bone doesn’t prove anything.” The world narrowed in on him. He swayed back, caught by the trunk of a massive tree. It didn’t keep the world from spinning. “It doesn’t prove anything.”

“The amount of blood at the car, the bone shards,” Hoagie shook his head. “I think we need to call this in with mission control. We… we need to see a counselor.”

“So that’s it? We’re giving up on Wally?” Nigel stood upright. Anger tightened every muscle in his body. He couldn’t believe the team would throw in the towel.

“Nigel, we’re in denial. All of us. We didn’t see this coming and it blindsided us. This mission went wrong. We’ve heard stories, but we were too cocky. We didn’t think it would happen to us,” Abigail said. 

“Leave then, but I’m not going until I find his body.” Nigel bent down, collecting his supplies from the camp. 

“You’re going to search thousands of acres of mountain and hidden caverns by yourself?” Kuki asked.

The conversation ended with him walking away. He was only alone for half an hour before he heard the familiar hum of hushed conversation as his team caught up. 

 

oOo

 

Wally woke in complete darkness. He jerked up against the wall; cold, hungry and scared. 

The Count did it. He was dead. 

No. There was too much room for this to be a coffin. Purgatory then?

A familiar chuckle eased the confusion. Oh how he hated that part that found comfort in the vampire. The part of him that found normalcy in their routine. “I’ll never accept this!” 

“I will greatly enjoy breaking you into submission.” The words followed a touch that slid from his shoulders down to his elbow, frigid, dead fingers trailed down his bare skin. 

Great! He brought his hands up to guard his skin. The darkness was utterly complete. His skin prickled from the coldness that ran bone deep, uncomfortable enough to convince him that maybe, just maybe he was alive. 

“Where are we?” Mold and dampness clung to the air. They were underground, maybe a hidden cavern. It didn’t smell like death so they weren’t in a catacomb. The ground was dirt, the wall against his back was rocky. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the distinct drip of water gathering in a puddle.

“You shouldn’t be concerned with your location.” Humor. The Count found this amusing.

The longer he was awake, the more acute his brain became to his nudity. He used the wall to stand. His muscles protested the movement. It was useless looking for a light source; the vampire didn’t need one and he doubted the creature would do anything to ease someone else’s discomfort.

“Trying to crawl away? I’m still so hungry.” A dry laugh followed the statement. 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stuck one foot in front of the other and started walking with both hands on the wall, for balance and for help with direction. Walking in the dark was suicide, but doing nothing about it was idiotic.

“Careful, child. There are a number of holes leading to caverns even deeper than this one. You’d risk breaking a bone to prove your stubbornness?” 

The Count’s words stilled his movement. This was pointless. He was naked, freezing, hungry, exhausted from blood loss, completely blind in the darkness, and disoriented. There really was no way out.

As if the Count heard these thoughts, the creature brushed up against him, forcing him closer to the wall. The fabric of his clothing rubbed harshly against his dirty skin, pressing the tiny rocks into his flesh. It could’ve been sandpaper due to the similar, painful damage. 

“That’s right, Wallaby Beatles, scream. No one is coming for you. As far as your family and friends are concerned, you’re dead.” Each word ended with a nasty nip at Wally’s neck. The Count’s incisors drew lines over his flesh, surface cuts that stung.

Poison. The Count was dosing him with vampire venom. That’s why the pain was slowly easing into mind numbing pleasure. It was utopia and his brain was all too willing to succumb. 

 

oOo

 

The silence that followed stretched until his ears ached. It had to be days. He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from screaming, but even then, he couldn’t fight it. He needed a sound. 

It hurt.

His throat. His joints. His skin. His brain.

He begged. He said he wouldn’t, but he did. He hated himself too. He hated everything about himself and in the quiet space that was worse than purgatory, there was so much time to think about everything that lead up to this. 

He was stupid. He really was. That’s why everyone else was running off to college and he’d only serve as muscle. No one would let him make the decisions. He was too afraid to apply to any of the colleges so he applied for the military…

And now, he was alone. So. So. Alone. 

Water. The best thing in the entire world fell over his lips. Wet. Cold. Satiating.

“Slowly.” The Count ordered, controlling the water. The vampire held him still with one arm wrapped around his limbs.

His head rested on the Count’s shoulder as the vampire held the water bottle to his lips. He wasn’t sure how much he drank, but the creature didn’t tease him or pull the bottle away. He drank until he felt like he was drowning in the perfect liquid, then he drank more. 

“Th-thank you.” Did he just thank the creature holding him captive? And did he actually mean it? Yes, deep down, he did. And it was confusing.

The vampire stroked his shoulders and let his hands go all the way down to his stomach where he rubbed circles. It wasn’t until he went lower, did Wally realize that he was hard. His sac felt heavy too. 

“Eat.” The command was gentle. 

It took a second to realize that food was placed in his hands. The first bite of the bar left his tongue chalky. Maybe it was a power bar, if he had to guess. He shoved the rest of it in his mouth and was given more water. 

“Why?” It hurt to talk. Hell, it hurt to swallow, but he did both anyway. 

The hands that righted him were colder than his skin. Those same hands pushed his hair from his face. He tried to keep his eyes open. 

“Put your arms around me and I can make your pain go away,” the Count whispered.

He was scared. So. Fucking. Scared.

But he didn’t know what he was scared of any more. Was it the dark? Was it being alone? Was it the future? Or his addiction? Or the fact that he almost no longer cared about the addiction as long as the vampire didn’t leave him alone again.

“Water.” 

“You can have all the water you want. I’ll even let you bathe if you put your arms around me and accept me as your master.” The vampire nuzzled his neck and kissed his cheek.

He tried to push against the arms, but he lacked the strength. He couldn’t even right his head, which made his neck hurt until hands adjusted him against the crook of the vampire’s neck.

“I… I can’t. I don’t want this,” Wally tried again to push out of the Count’s arms.

“You are killing yourself,” the Count said. 

He was placed back on the ground. After what felt like hours, he gave into the crying. But there were no real tears, just the pain that wrecked through his body. Did he want to die? Like this? 

“Okay.” He whispered. Everything in his brain said he wanted this. He really, really did. The vampire was his full on desire.

The creature suckled on his neck and he leaned into it. The mew poured from his lips before he could stop it. 

 

oOo

 

He knew the human would give in. He knew the second the child came to visit him in the prison, that the football star was his. He kissed the boy’s shoulder and sucked on the skin with no intention of biting him. Wallaby had already lost too much blood. 

He needed to heal. 

So he wrapped his lithe fingers around the boy’s hot organ and gave it a few soft, slow strokes before dipping lower, grabbing his slave by his sac. It was heavy with youth, ready to spread his seed. The only seed he’d be spreading would always be wasted on the ground. 

But he went lower now and to his surprise, Wally’s legs fell open for him. The space between his cheeks were hot. His hole was practically on fire. This is what he wanted, the boy’s heat. 

He suckled on the pulse point on Wallaby’s neck. His mouth left wet sounds as he barely pushed on Wally’s entrance. The young man’s knees snapped shut, trapping his wrist between his well-worked muscle, but Wally didn’t fight him.

Wally was his.


	6. Life Goes On and On and On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and Hugs my friends! I didn't expect this story to be all that popular, but quite a few of you are fans of these ships. Thanks for sticking it out with me. :) And being so, so utterly patient. 
> 
> I had so many "firsts" stories based around Wally and the Count, but this is the first one I've actually posted and I didn't expect it to go this far but people were asking for more and you readers are just the best!!!

The earth was wet and soft against his hands, belly and legs. The air, though cool, was not nearly as damp as underground. A hand tenderly soothed over his spine, patiently waiting for him to uncurl.

Wally licked his lips. The darkness in the cave had blended every second of every day. He had a life before this, he was sure of it, but when he tried too hard to remember, a splitting headache took over with raging force. “H-how lo-long was I….?”

The Count’s cold fingers wrapped around his shoulder and gently pulled him into a sitting position. His eyes still watered, but the world slowly came into focus under the bright gleam of moonlight. He could see the blur of bushes and trees before the mass become detailed; leaves that were in various shades of green and yellowing at the edges.

“Years, we have been alone. The seasons have come and gone. The world has moved on without us, but now, we must return.” The Count lifted him with such ease that it left him feeling delicate.

Wally’s heart plummeted. It all felt so foreign now. Even the trees had their own language and he couldn’t stand hearing them rustle. “I ca-can’t do this. I can’t. I want to go back down into the earth.”

He looked over the Count’s shoulder. The cave entrance was hidden under the mass of overlapping vines. If they left now, he was sure he’d never find it again. And without the Count, he wouldn’t survive the seclusion.

The Count held him tighter. “Nonsense. You’re with me. I will not let anyone harm you, but we can’t stay hidden any longer. I have been summoned by both the League of Villains and by a vampire coven that I once had ties with. I cannot let this go unanswered.”

Wally threw his arm around the Count’s neck to steady his own rapid heartbeat. There was no peace within him. He wasn’t ready for any of this.   
His mind could barely filter all the sounds around them. Being somewhere so dark and void of activity had been torturous, until one day, it suddenly wasn’t. The norm had become the emptiness. 

The vampire brought him blankets for bedding. There’d been food and water, though limited. Never any clothes and he found he liked this strange sense of freedom from the norm. A collar had been placed around his neck at one point. 

The collar hadn’t been welcomed at first.

He touched the collar at his throat. He knew the details by touch alone; smooth, one-inch thick leather with studs. 

The Count chuckled. The familiar rumble of sound was soothing. “You will wear clothes Mister Beetles. Though advanced, your society would hardly understand a young man walking around wearing only a collar.”

Wally laid his head against the Count’s shoulder and stared at the different colors in the leaves and brush. A few yellow flowers grew around the trees. Moss hugged everything. 

He didn’t know the Count’s real name. What a weird thing to suddenly be so concerned over. 

“Kostya Stanislaus.” 

Silence settled.

It took a second to realize what he’d been given. A name. 

“It’s Slavic. I come from a very old family,” the Count said, and then, knowing the question before it was even formed, his smile softened as he met Wally’s eyes. “I will allow you to call me Kostya in private. You will address me as master in public.”

Wally swallowed hard. The lump was from anxiety. He didn’t want to be back in public. He liked the hole. He liked the smell of wet earth and the soft drip of water.   
“It’s too dry up here,” he complained. 

Kostya threw his head back and laughed. It was another sound that brought entire ease to Wally’s soul. “You aren’t a mermaid, Wallaby. You’ll get used to it again.”

A spark of defiance lit inside his belly. “What if I don’t? I want to go back to our home.”

Kostya hugged him tighter, though his real strength was clearly contained. “The earth is no longer our dwelling. We have places to be. I will give you a few days to adjust, but then we must catch a flight to our residence among the cattle.”

Home among the people. 

Wally couldn’t remember living among people. He couldn’t remember the sounds, the way it felt, and the way it tasted on his tongue to dine among friends. He couldn’t remember anything about this old life beyond the underground cavern. 

 

oOo

 

Kostya placed a hand on Wally’s knee and tightened it, garnishing his full attention. “Stop fidgeting.”

Wally dragged his eyes off the car window to look at the Count. The man was wearing a freshly pressed suit. It was crisp and held no scent that Wally’s human nose could catch. The vampire’s dark eyes studied every aspect of him and he blushed under that domineering stare. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and pressed his fingers into his pants. It didn’t ease the nervous tick in his hands or under his skin.

Count Stanislaus kept his promise about dragging him back in town by the end of the week. Now they were in a town car that smelled clean enough, but nothing like the cave. He wore soft brown pants and cotton shirt. Very plain and non-descript. Yet, he felt anything but invisible. 

“There is nothing for you to fear here. I won’t let anyone take you away.” Kostya promised with a pat on the top of his head, careful of his man-bun.

Kostya’s strong convictions made Wally’s shaft immediately tightened with the first pull of blood hardening the veins. He swallowed and turned away, but not before he caught the vampire’s even sharper smile. The Count never talked about it, but he was sure the vampire could smell when he was effected by his presence and, even more so, his words.

There were a lot of people driving, walking, shopping, riding bikes or skateboarding. There was so much happening that it gave Wally a headache. He pressed his eyes shut and leaned his head against the window. He wanted to go back to the cave and exist like a mole person. 

Their driver pulled up to a large theater. He remotely remembered visiting one, but the vision was gone as quickly as it had settled.

The Count opened the door and gracefully moved from his seat. Wally didn’t feel nearly as refined as he lingered with one foot out the door, wondering how much trouble he’d be in if he insisted on staying put. From the Count’s frown, he knew he didn’t want to be corrected right here in front of the norms. He slid out and the minute the Count slammed the door shut, the driver pulled away.

They bypassed the ticket stand and went straight through the entrance. The smell of popcorn instantly made his stomach growl. He took a long inhale of the salty scent and tried to ignore the memories the scent conjured. It was wrong to have memories. He wouldn’t be able to keep them. 

“You’re doing so well, Wallaby.” The Count took his hand and squeezed his fingers. He wanted to bury his face into the vampire’s coat suit. 

People were staring at them; mostly children before their guardians adverted their attention. He blushed. Was it wrong? He drew so close to the Count that he bumped into his back when the older man stopped.

The Count reached back, grasped his shoulder and with gentle force, pulled him to his side. “Wallaby, there is nothing to be troubled over.”

“It’s so loud.” Wally hated the sound of his voice. His nervousness showed in his whiny tone. He glanced around the open space at the cardboard signs advertising new movies and the small amount of arcade games. There was nowhere to truly hide. 

“Count, it’s so good of you to finally answer our summons. You disappeared for so long; we were starting to think one of those brats finally staked you.” The man that approached them was big, well over six-foot and built like an ox. The man’s shaggy beard met his sideburns. He wore a hat with horns.

For a second, a very brief second, something keen of a memory flashed in Wally’s head. The memory didn’t hold, but anger and fear remained resolute. The Count’s fingers tightened on his shoulder as if he knew where Wally’s thoughts had gone. 

“Easy Wallaby,” Kostya warned. 

It didn’t ease Wally’s growing sense of dread. This man was dangerous. He wanted to kill him.

The burly man with his loud, booming voice, stopped short of them and accessed him. Recognition widened the man’s pupils. So they did know each other.   
The man’s jaw tightened and his hands slid back to grasp something hidden just under his coat. “You brought our enemy with you?”

Defiance made Wally want to stand his ground, but uncertainty had him stepping closer to the vampire. Kostya put his arms around Wally’s shoulders and drew him in close enough to kiss his temple. The fear instantly left him, but the anger held tight in his breast bone. He could ponder it later, when he was alone. 

“I promise you, my pet is of little consequence to the League of Villains,” the Count answered, then waved a gloved hand to the door the man had come from. When the man didn’t budge, the Count pressed Wally forward, following him into the room.

The air smelled musky, trapped within the narrow, dark walls. The carpet had been bright red at some point, but the red was dulled by the numerous feet that stomped over it. The chairs were decorated with a maroon fabric, easy to cover spills… or blood. 

He shivered. Now wasn’t the time to think about the Count pulling his pants down and biting the artery between his thighs. But the thought happened so quickly that it gave him a minor adrenaline rush that had an awkward side effect. Good thing his pants were loose. Too many people were watching him.

There were a number of adults waiting in outlandish outfits. Faces flashed in his minds-eye, swift and without sticking. He found himself drawing closer and closer to the Count. With his anxiety growing, he desperately desired to find his safety by submitting to his master.

“It’s that brat Numbuh-Four,” the bearded man announced from the doorway.

All eyes turned to them. This must have meant something. The venom in the man’s tone was worrying. 

Strong hands wrapped around his waist and shoved him tightly against the Count’s chest. He buried his face as the older man rubbed circles on his lower back. The vampire’s other hand gripped the back of his neck. This was a familiar gesture, used many times when he’d been acting out. It instantly quieted his growing anxiety.

“Psychotherapy is an extremely long process. I would kindly ask that you do nothing to trigger my pet’s negative memories,” Kostya said. He tsked softly under his breath and forced Wally to look up at him. His tone lowered as he whispered encouragement in his native tongue. 

Wally found deep comfort in this. He answered back in the ancient dialect. “I want to go home.”

Kostya chuckled then frowned. Wally noticed it a second later. A stranger had the audacity to pull at the long strands of hair coming loose from his messy bun. He felt affronted someone would touch him after all the work that went into looking like this for the Count. 

“You were not invited to touch my pet,” Kostya warned, pushing the man back.

Wally buried his fingers into the vampire’s shirt, wanting them to leave. He didn’t like all the eyes on him. He couldn’t distinguish what the peculiar looks meant. Some looked as though they wanted… they wanted to do more than to beat him.

“You took the boy and buried his personality? I don’t believe it,” a lithe man, dark hair and glasses with a bourbon glass in hand, stated. Father?

Wally shook his head. What a weird thing to think about a stranger, yet, deep down, he really felt like this was the correct name for the stranger.

Before anything else could be said, the vampire took his seat in the front row, pulling Wally into a sitting position between his knees. He done this many times and found comfort when the vampire’s gloved fingers drew lines at his hairline and down his neck. 

He leaned into it, opening his eyes after someone coughed. There were numerous people present, all men that were vaguely familiar now that his heart had slowed its rapid, panicked beating. He buried his face downward into the Count’s crotch. He could feel the vampire through his pants, soft but thick. The Count had said no every time he begged for it, had promised the vampire that he was physically ready to advance their relationship.

He had to stay a virgin. 

“This is… incredible. I don’t believe it even with it right in front of me,” one of the men said.

“The Great Wallaby Beetles subservient to the Count?” another voice shouted with undeniable awe. 

Wally kept his eyes tightly squeezed. He didn’t want to see these strangers analyzing him, pretending they knew and understand him. How could they know him when he barely knew anything about himself?

“Let’s get this meeting started, gentlemen. I don’t have all night. And, there has been a slight change in my arrangement over the years, I no longer work with children,” Kostya said. 

 

oOo

 

“I signed you into this dating app that lets you hook up with people in your area… uh, it’s more like a sex thing, but you’re so uptight. I mean, like super not fun, always bossy and in a bad mood, ya know?” Lizzy said.

Nigel choked on his coffee. It burned a path down his throat and down his chin at the same time. He swiped the napkin off the table to catch it from ruining his white, collared shirt. “You said you were downloading the pictures from my Intel mission.”

Lizzy shrugged. She’d lost some weight since they were children. Her roundness had grown into shapely curves. Her red hair was held back in intricate braids that softened her face. Her round glasses enhanced her heart shaped face. “It’s been what, five years maybe, since you’ve tried to meet someone. I’m helping you get back on the horse. And it helps that Hoagie said you prefer blonds.”

“What?” He leaned into the table, lowering his voice, not because of the mission, but because he really hoped this was a joke. “When did you talk with Hoagie?”

He hadn’t talked to his engineer since Hoagie started interning with NASA. That’s been almost three years ago. Time was flying and he wasn’t calling anyone on the team. They weren’t calling him either. The thing they’d tried to bury remained the elephant in the room.

Again Lizzy shrugged. “You really need to get back on the bike Nyyyy-ggie. It’s not healthy for you to be alone all the time. Plus, you’re a real bear when you get stressed. Work off some off that pent up energy.”

Did his ex-girlfriend just tell him to go get laid? It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a few one night stands in college, but work kept him busy. Too busy to “get laid.” She should know that.

His phone dinged and when he swiped his code into the screen, the app instantly came up with a picture of a guy. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he scanned the diner to see if anyone noticed. He was old enough to date who he wanted, but it felt weird, like he was caught red handed being a perv.

“Would you relax? No one cares if you’re dating guys.” Lizzy flagged down their waitress and gave her the company card before turning back to him. “Get laid, Nyyyy-ggie, because frankly, we aren’t supposed to live and die for the CIA. We’re supposed to have lives too.” 

He looked down at the picture. The guy wasn’t bad looking. Nerdish with his glasses, sweater over his collared shirt and pens in the pocket. Maybe an intellectual conversation outside of work wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like he was getting married. He was just trying to fill that void.

 

oOo

 

Kostya Stanislaus stood out on the tiny balcony of their apartment. Heat rushed in through the open door. The night brought no relief, but they’d been living in Kuwait so long, that Wally could feel the slightest drop in the sweltering temperature. 

He joined the vampire. “Master?”

Kostya looked magnificent in his matching, black silk sleep wear. His shirt was unbuttoned and the breeze blew it open, exposing his long, pale torso. It was so taboo to show this much skin. “I have enjoyed our time here, Wallaby.”

They risked the death penalty if they gave the slightest hint to their relation, so Wally kept space between them. “Are you leaving me, again?”

Very little was happening down below. Less than a handful of lights were on in the surrounding apartment buildings. The world was asleep at this strange hour. It’d felt weird at first, knowing that humans were only active during the daylight hours. 

With Kostya buried in the back room, he would wander onto the porch and watch the humans down below rush off to meet the demands life brought them. And he still liked the feel of the sun on his skin.

“We’re done here, kiddo,” Kostya verified. The vampire glanced back at him, his black hair wet and plastered to his head. His clothes were still damp from barely toweling off before getting dressed. 

Wally leaned against the railing and watched his master. The man was brilliant. He’d follow him forever if it meant gleaming a tiny bit of intelligence. 

“You’re unsettled,” Kostya said.

Wally dropped his hands when he realized he was hugging himself. “I… I was wondering when you’d need me again?”

In the three years that they’d been here, Kostya had touched him less than a handful of times and within those times, only twice had he taken blood. He needed it badly. Not just for reassurance, but to calm the uncanny need.

“Let’s get inside, baby.” Kostya’s voice was low, demanding. Sexual.

He barely stepped into the deep shadow of their living quarters, before the vampire drew him up against the wall, trapping him. His heart raced. The tiniest voice of reason said this wasn’t safe, that he shouldn’t like the feeling of being trapped. He shouldn’t want to be the prey. The largest voice, the one full of unbridled lust was screaming for the Count to fuck him.

A word he shouldn’t use. The Count didn’t like when he cussed. It leads to spankings and sometimes even rougher forms of punishment. 

He moaned at the thought. 

Kostya licked a path from the dip in his throat, all the way to his ear. “I know, baby. Your inner masochist wants to come out and play. But not here. We don’t have time for your extended recovery.”

Nimble fingers grabbed at the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tried to bite back the moan and failed. 

The vampire’s lips were on his, sucking down every noise he made. The Count nipped at his skin, sucking at the surface cuts he made with his fangs. It stung. But felt so, incredibly good. 

The sharp aches made blood rush straight to his shaft. His loose pajamas allowed his tip to poke straight up. Pleasure tightened in his stomach as the vampire pulled and sucked on his nipples. He arched into the vampire’s mouth, wanting him to suck harder. The little suckling sounds along with the pressure, pulled at the lines that connected every part of him back to the growing ball of heat building low in his pelvis. 

“I knew you’d like this,” Kostya said. He mentioned it almost every time he made short work of Wally’s body, handling it like a well loved map under the grip of an explorer’s calculating fingertips.

Kostya’s fingers slid into the hem of his pajamas and pulled them down while licking the lines of his washboard stomach, tracing straight from his belly button to his pelvic bones. He licked Wally’s shaft with his cold tongue, wet from his blood. He liked when Kostya’s mouth was wet with his blood. It added to his morbid pleasure.

At the soft tap on his side, he opened his legs and once again found his balance. The Count’s tongue drew up his inner thigh, cold, not like ice, but cool just the same. It didn’t chill his overheated body. 

“You’ve been sitting in the sun again. I can taste it on your skin.” It wasn’t a reprimand. 

He’d come to realize a while ago that the Count experienced the world by smell that translated into taste when he sucked from him.

Wally pressed his hands back against the wall to keep from grabbing at the Count’s head. Kostya chuckled, knowing how impatient he was starting to feel. 

Kostya sank his fangs into Wally’s inner thigh and moaned the same time Wally did. Wally threw his head back against the wall, ready to go boneless. Sheer will kept him standing, but everything inside him was gone. 

The first pull of pressure on his thigh and the flood gates opened. His orgasm exploded, sending strand after ropy strand of semen jutting over his stomach. The Count dug his teeth in deeper. The feeding was always hectic, like Kostya would one day swallow him in entirety. 

It took a second to come down from it. When he did, he could focus on the Count’s sucking. His body slowly went from euphoric to quiet. His thoughts slowed. His heart slowed. 

Kostya dragged his mouth from his thigh and for a second, was completely breathless for a creature that shouldn’t need to suck in air. “I forget sometimes.”

It sounded like a confession that made the vampire stoic, but he didn’t ask the Count to verify that emotion. He hated emotions anyway and that was something he was sure had always been a part of his personality.

“When are we leaving?” He was still breathless and debauched. 

Kostya stood and wiped a hand over his bloody mouth, smearing the blood against his pale cheeks. “Tomorrow night.”

 

oOo

 

He packed the few things the Count had allowed him to purchase, and pulled his backpack over his shoulders. That’s how it went. The world was a huge place. 

China had been their next longest destination. He instantly fell in love with the Chinese lantern festival; the music and the clothes. He liked the crowded streets and the massive, bright shops. He loved the food and though he struggled with the language, he felt accomplished when he could read children learner books.

However; the Count had one strict rule: he was not allowed to talk with people. He was always with the Count and Kostya would politely decline people who asked if they could take a picture with Wally. They liked his blond hair, or maybe his bohemian clothing. It was hard to tell.

It wasn’t even three years on the dot before they were pulling their things together in the wee hours of morning and head to an island. The work there was short. 

They didn’t stay in town this time. The citizens were superstitious and guarded. The work there was barely a handful of months, which gave him no chance to learn the language or see more than one bonfire festival. 

Kostya fed from him more here on this little island than he had in any of their other locations. It made him painfully aware that the vampire fed from others. It was about both their survival, Kostya had said.

But he didn’t care. How could anyone be better than him? It only added to his depression, which shouldn’t have been there when Kostya was with him.

And so time continued like this, with them staying in new locations, some longer than others, until Wally truly enjoyed the lifestyle greatly.

That’s how his master found him, spread out on the beach, letting the frigid water lap over his feet and thighs. The dryer sand at is hips and back were chill from the approaching winter. He liked it better in the summer when it would burn at his skin. 

The Count grabbed him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. “We need to go.” 

Wally stumbled to catch his balance as Kostya dragged him to their hut. It was the only one on this side of the beach and Wally had built it by hand. “But we barely got here. It’s so nice.”

“You’ll like the next location too, Wallaby. It’s in your docile nature.” The comment should’ve stung. 

It only served to piss him off. He dragged his feet in the sand. It didn’t slow the vampire. “Why are we leaving so quickly?”

What he really wanted to ask was why Count Stanislaus was acting like this… like he was scared of something. What could spook a six-hundred-year-old vampire?

“Don’t be a brat, Wallaby. This isn’t the time to be obstinate.” His tone held a dangerous note. 

Wally swallowed. He built the fire earlier, but kept it low for cooking. Now the light danced over the sand and the hut’s doorway. He’d been proud of all this a few months ago. Now, he felt sick. They were leaving again. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he tried again. 

The packing was getting a little harder after the last two locations. Kostya had gotten him a medium size rolling suitcase for all his souvenirs, his language books, flashcards and the laptop with elementary language courses. It was supposed to keep him entertained and it did, but it slowed down the quick getaway. 

He was thrown back onto the sand. He barely caught his breath before the vampire was on top of him. Kostya’s lips were pulled up, baring his sharp, white fangs. “I told you this isn’t the time, Mister Beetles. I am leaving the coven. They question my loyalty and the price of their loyalty is too high for me to give.”

“Are we going home then? Back to our cave?” Wally wasn’t so sure he wanted that any more. He liked the outdoors, the sun, the plants and occasionally, even the people, though they stared at him like he was an anomaly. Some had even asked if he were a model. It was embarrassing, but he liked being back among the herd, as Kostya said.

Kostya rolled off of him, but dragged him into his lap. His arms wrapped around him with ease. “No, child. Hiding is not in our foreseeable future.”

“What do they want that you can’t give them?” He knew it wasn’t his position to question the Count. The vampire was wise and knew what was best for them, but he could feel the tension in the way the vampire held him.

Kostya huffed and with gentle force, guided him to lay his head on the vampire’s shoulder. “It’s not something for you to be concerned over. I will never let it happen. Never.”

But he could tell Kostya was analyzing every possible outcome, because Wally was too. The coven could corner Kostya and kill him. “What are we going to do?”

“I think I know someone who might be interested in what the coven’s been working on,” Kostya said. “But right now, we have to leave, okay? No more questions. Trust me and pack your things. We need to go.”


	7. Lost and Found, Found, Found

Nigel woke with a start, covered in sweat. He kicked the sheets back, but it did nothing to regulate his body temperature. The heat was trapped between his pajamas and skin. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and tossed his sweatshirt at the wall. 

His hotel room was dark, minus the very dim streetlamps filtering in through the square window. He fell asleep before closing the curtains. He appreciated that foresight, welcoming the light that chased the remnants of his nightmare.

He reached for his mobile. Now that he was awake and the lingering effects of sleep dwindled away, he could throw a few more hours into his research before he hit the road and tried again with the super computer warfare. He swiped his mobile screen open and three messages sat in his text box. 

Happy Birthday. Miss you. - Kuki 

Happy Birthday. Man, we’re getting up there, aren’t we? - Hoagie 

Happy 32nd Birthday. Let’s get together when you’re back in town. -Abby

He smirked, grateful for the distraction. Of course, they’d be the first to text. Each message came after midnight. Despite the time that passed, every year he thought about Wallaby. 

It’d been fifteen years since the Beetles buried an empty casket. 

As quickly as the memory came, he shut it down. Therapy, medications and drinking binges couldn’t stop the ache that followed him like a phantom. Guilt. That’s what the therapists all said. That this weight on his shoulders wasn’t his fault…. But it was.

He was the team leader. He was the one that okayed the medications that went into Wally’s body. He was the one that signed off on the papers to proceed with the plans in capturing the Count. 

“Try another direction.” His reprimand did little to sway the snowball of thoughts, but suppression was his best bet.

He dropped his phone on the bed and stretched again, noticing the sticky note on the window. It hadn’t been there when he went to bed. He reached under his pillow for his Glock. Gone. 

His spine tingled with dread. How could he sleep through someone opening his door, walking through his room and reaching under his sleeping head to apprehend his weapon? 

One thing was sure; whoever entered his room didn’t want him dead. This knowledge lead him across the room to the window without fear of getting shot. He plucked the sticky from the window. Crisp block letters simply read; bar. 

This late at night, only one bar would be open. He slid his shoes on and forewent the coat. He made sure the safety was on his second Glock before sticking it in the back of his pants. He adjusted his shirt to cover the handle. 

He should’ve called this in, but before logic swayed his rash decision, the elevator doors opened into the exquisite lobby with its marble flooring. He walked straight to the doorway of the bar and accessed his surroundings. There were four men present, each sitting alone at random tables. The fifth person was towards the back, easy to miss… almost, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d know this man anywhere. 

Nigel’s jaw locked. 

It’d been far too long since he’d seen the Count. As an adult, the Count wasn’t nearly as old as he originally perceived. In fact, he’d wager the man became a vampire while in his late thirties. He was lean and had a refined, almost royal stature.

The vampire acknowledged him with a nod. Nigel returned it before going straight to the bar and ordering a drink; rum and coke. One drink wouldn’t affect his neurological system. He built his tolerance for liquor at university, though one drink might keep him from outright killing the Count. 

He took his drink and went to the back of the room where the Count waited. Nigel slid into the bench seat, jaw clenched with anger. “You have something that belongs to me.” 

“I do.” The vampire’s smirk said it was so much more than just the Glock. He sat the polished, black gun on the table between them.

Nigel swiped it off the table and slid it into the second holster. “All of this is unnecessary. You could’ve just woke me.”

The vampire laughed. It was a low, humorless sound that bordered on fatigue. Did vampires get exhausted? “I could have, but I don’t have time to scuffle with you. I’ll make this quick. I have information on a couple organizations that might hold your interest.”

“The organizations I’m interested in are heavily vetted through the CIA, but this is a peace offering, isn’t it? Why are you really here?” Nigel asked. 

The Count shrugged. His gloved fingers were steepled in front of him. “I have something of high value that I don’t want stolen or destroyed. Maybe this is karma or whatever you humans fret so much on. I am willing to help you bring down this coven before they take and destroy what is rightfully mine.”

“I’m not throwing you a bone. If it were up to me, I would execute you on the spot, but for whatever reason, the agency deems you an ally in some very assorted way,” Nigel said. His fingers twitched with the threat. Why even warn the vampire? Why not just play it out the way he’d done a million times over?

“Nigel, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something to protect. I would do anything to protect what is mine.” Red seeped into the vampire’s irises. “Anything. But the nature of my very existence leaves me vulnerable during the daylight hours and I’m running out of places to hide my treasure. I understand that you’re still feeling emotionally—”

“What are you, a therapist? You are going to sit here and pretend you understand the level of my pain?” He drowned his drink and slammed the glass on the tabletop. “That’s right. I said pain. What you did to our team… to me, and you expect me to roll over and protect your treasure?”

“Believe it or not, we want the same thing and because of this, I’m coming to you. I wouldn’t if I had any other choice. I don’t.” Yes. There was clear exhaustion in the vampire. 

This was ridiculous. There’d been only one thing he’d ever wanted to do and that was to finish the Count himself. “Get out of here before I’m the biggest thing you have to worry about tonight.”

“Nigel, what if I told you I have the blueprints for every hidden nuclear plant that is currently in operation. Would that be big enough to you and your organization to ask for a favor in return?” The Count tried again.

Nigel’s headache was growing. “It would be a big trade if you had proof and as long as the information is new and not what’s already been leaked.”

The Count nodded. “I have a super computer of my own, but I’d want to this in writing that you’ll take and protect something of mine and return it for the blue prints.”

Nigel’s fingers itched to pull his Glock. “Again, we would need something more than your word to go by.”

The Count nodded and sunk back into the chair; his dark eyes, endless and unreadable. “I will give you the blueprints and whatever else you need if we have a deal.”

Nigel shook his head. “No deal until it’s been discussed with the management.” 

He turned and left the Count sitting there, sure the vampire would find a way to get ahold of him later.

 

oOo

 

Wally sank back against the car seat. His coat was bulky and layered, meant to keep the heat in, but the Count left the car keys in the ignition, so he could filter in heat from the vents. He fiddled with an Ipad. A cartoon played, Bugs Bunny in the Russian language. 

He understood about seventy percent of it, but it hardly held his attention. His eyes kept drifting towards the hotel door while a light rain splattered down the windshield. He understood there wasn’t much he could do against the vampires hunting them, but dread weighed heavily in his chest every time Kostya left him behind.

He sighed and whacked his head back against the chair in frustration. Why were they even here? 

He traced the car handle with his fingers and thought heavily about leaving the car to search for his master. Kostya would be so mad if he just walked through the hotel door, especially if he was here to feed. 

Jealousy instantly flared. His blood ran hot and his heart pounded. Did Kostya touch the others like he touched him while feeding? Did they moan and orgasm when they were being pierced with the Count’s teeth?

A shadow fell over the passenger side door before the door was shoved open. Cold air instantly seeped into the car, and the smell of fresh rain filled his senses. It took less than a second to realize he didn’t know the stranger standing there, but he didn’t move fast enough. Hands caught his upper arm, yanking him from his seat.

The Ipad slammed against the cement before he followed the same fate, shattering the plastic and sending tiny parts skating across the ground. Luckily for him, he wasn’t so fragile. 

A man with a shaved head stood over him, thin and ratty looking. “You’re Wallabee Beatles?”

Wally snapped out of his stupor and leaned in, kicking at the man’s shin. There was no resounding crunch, but the man doubled over, hissing with pain. Wally got to his feet and stepped back into the street to put distance between them. 

The late hour saved him from his reckless decisions. No cars. No unwanted accidents. 

Not that he was afraid. He really wasn’t. Two untrained punks weren’t a threat, not really. But the Count had told him not to fight, not to show people all the talents he’d gleamed over the years. It was called, tipping the hat. 

“Where are you running off too, cutie?” the first man asked. He looked up and down the street once, a quick glance to make sure they were alone. This early in the morning, they were most definitely alone. 

Wally huffed. Pride made him want to stand and fight, but his master would be displeased. Still, he couldn’t deny how hot he grew forcing himself to stand down.

The shorter of the two lunged and Wally stepped to the side, grabbing the man by his shoulder. With his foot out, catching the man in his shin, he used the man’s momentum to trip him. It was a simple move. Anyone could do it. It wasn’t like he was showboating his skills.

The second man lunged, ready for Wally’s reaction. He jerked back and punched the man square in the jaw, followed by a low kick and a cross-hook. Blood spurted from his nose. It only angered the stranger. Both came at him and the force sent him to the ground, slamming the back of his head on the pavement. Skull jarring pain followed the thud. He caught the wrist of the man trying to lift his shirt. 

“I can see why the Count likes you. You got a nice mouth. I bet you make the best sounds when his teeth are biting through your skin,” the man said. 

“He doesn’t say much,” the other man said, close enough in height to his six-foot tall friend. His sideways smirk expressed every thought that ran in the man’s head. 

“Maybe he’s mute?” the first said.

“Nah man, wouldn’t they mention it if he was mute?” the second leaned more of his body weight into Wally’s pelvis bone. It felt like his hip would snap under the pressure. “What about it man? Are you a mute?”

When he didn’t answer, the man’s free hand slid to Wally’s waist and slid up under his shirt. The stranger’s ice frozen thumb stroked down Wally’s hip. 

“I’m going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you before I give you to the head master. Kostya should have handed you over when our master ordered it,” the second man continued. 

A second later, that weight was lifted and slammed against the wall. The man crumbled into a heap. Wally jerked to his feet and would’ve stumbled if it weren’t for the hands on his shoulders keeping him steady. The same hands caught his wrist when he tried to throw a punch.

“Easy now. It’s just me.” Kostya said. He looked paler than he had hours ago. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the brown in his irises. “I told you to stay in the car with the doors locked.”

“They were locked.” He wasn’t completely sure of this. In his boredom, he’d been playing with the switches. His mouth was painfully dry. He needed water and now, a very hot shower. He’d have bruises tomorrow. “What were you doing, anyway?”

“Requesting help,” Kostya said. He pulled Wally closer, but there was no body heat in the embrace. His vampire rubbed his thumb over Wally’s jaw and gently tilted his head one way and then the other, scouting his face for serious injuries.

Wally fought the desire to knock Kostya’s hands back. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the touch, but he hated being babied. “Are we getting it?”

“I think we’re on our own, kid. It’s just a matter of time before the nest catches up with us.” 

“And then what? Do you have another plan?” Wally asked.

The vampire’s black pupils grew small. It was hard to read him when he was stoic like this. “We need to get going.”

“You have a plan though, right?” Wally pressed. He wanted to know they’d eventually stop running and get a chance to settle back down. 

“We have to keep moving. More will come when these two don’t return.” Kostya pulled him back towards the car.

That wasn’t the answer. Deep down, Wally knew the Count wouldn’t let the vampires catch them, at any cost. “I’m not going to keep running.”

Kostya stayed tight lipped as he pushed Wally into the rental car. He wasn’t so sure he liked the idea of what “any cost” meant to his master.

 

oOo

 

Nigel jerked his fingers back with a hiss. His fingertips were sensitive, but there was no sign of damage. Not even his skin was red, but the painful shock made his nerves ache. 

“You’re distracted,” Hoagie said. Getting the team back had been part of a request on his end and because the CIA was willing to pull strings in order to get a handle on the smuggling ring. 

“Opposite that,” Nigel growled, but relented and let Hoagie take the two thin wires. 

“You need to reread the definition on the word focused if you honestly think that’s what you are right now.” Hoagie tied off the wires and put the metal plate back into the device. “Are you going to talk about it?” 

“No.” There was nothing to say. He went around and around with his own hesitation. He should’ve killed the vampire when he had the chance, but in turn, the Count had come into his room and only took his g. Nothing more. He asked for help, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t help him after what had happened. 

Hoagie played with the gears on his hand controller and the thing took to the air. “So, are you going to spill the beans, or do I need to send Abby in?”

“I’m not a personal mission, Hoagie. I’m the team captain. Analyzing my day isn’t going to change things,” Nigel said, working on the next small gadget laid out in front of him. 

“You mean it’s not going to fix the past,” Hoagie supplied. The contraption landed in front of him and he parked his sheet before moving it to the side.

Nigel didn’t respond. The team moved on and it was luck that when the CIA called, his old team had agreed to jump back into action under his command. Telling them about the Count’s visit would only drudge up the nightmare fifteen years ago. 

They got the drones ready right as the first tap on his hotel door. It was the only warning he had before the girls swung it open and entered. 

“Eight o’clock on the dot,” Abby announced, wearing a heavy coat, scarf and tight black pants that fit into her big army boots.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Kuki announced just behind her. She wore tight black pants too, but her shoes weren’t nearly as heavy. Her snow coat was also black. Great way to blend in with fairly unnoticeable colors. 

Nigel wasn’t looking forward to the cold weather or building snowstorm. The ride to the ski lodge would suck. He stuck the items needed into the cushioned briefcase and stood, smoothing out his coat that was thick, but not bulky. He liked his clothes a little loose. Made fighting easier.

A quick glance at his watched confirmed the dinner hour. Being inside an exclusive and extremely active hotel meant sneaking was near impossible. They didn’t file out like a group of agents. Instead, they worked with a casual appearance for the camera.   
Inwardly, Nigel congratulated himself for everything working out fine until the doors opened to the lobby and he caught something painfully familiar at the edge of his vision, pass by the large fountain. He stepped out of the elevator and glanced straight towards his biggest enemy. The Count didn’t notice the group.

“Is that the-“ Abby started. 

Nigel nodded. “The Count.”

The Count greeted the doorman to the sauna, looking the same as Nigel remembered, except he had someone on his arm, a five-foot-eleven blond with his hair pulled into a manbun. Nigel swallowed hard. His heart nearly dropped to his stomach. The Count lead his companion through the frosted glass doors and the doorman guided it shut behind them.

“Was that… was that who it really, really, really appeared to be?” Kuki asked. Her mind went straight to the same conclusion Nigel’s had. Wally wasn’t dead. 

“A bathhouse? A freaking, bathhouse for only men?” Abby hissed. “What’s the game plan, chief? We can’t let him get away from us.”

Nigel fully agreed. Every part of him burned red-hot for vengeance and the chance to have Wally back, in whatever shape Wally was in…. which he had to admit, didn’t look that bad from behind. A little thinner, but not sickly. He didn’t look like a vampire. “Let’s get in there and burn the Count to the ground.”

But finding a way for all of them to sneak in took longer than he could mentally stand. It meant going through an employee only hallway that lead to the laundry. There was a second narrower hallway that had several doors. After checking every door without luck, they finally opened one into the locker room.

“I would’ve painted my toenails if I’d known we’d be hitting the bathhouse,” Kuki said. 

“I would’ve shaved,” Abby offered. 

The idle chatter eased the tension in Nigel’s chest. 

The place was a maze with immaculate white tile floors, tile walls and wood benches. Some of the smaller rooms became clear that they were for private, sexual experiences. His heart ached thinking he’d find Wally and the Count in one of those smaller rooms, but they were empty. Searching dragged them to the very last pool, something smaller and Greek in style. The two laid on vast lawn chairs under the glass sunroof. The lighting was dim given the darker, winter nights, but he could make out the two just past the pool. 

He was positive now, that it was Wally, dressed in a sleeveless, Greek style white dress that looked surprisingly modest on him. He looked really good, still muscular, though not nearly as big as he’d been when he was on the football team. His blond hair was long now, pulled high on his head in a manbun and the lower portion was shaved. It looked rugged and hot. 

“What’s the orders, sir?” Hoagie asked.

The heavy smell of chlorine made Nigel’s nostrils burn as he watched how comfortable Wally appeared with his legs pressed together and slightly angled so the Count could draw his hands down Wally’s thigh, pushing the fabric up. Fuck. From here, he could tell that Wally was naked under that toga. It felt like they were spying in on the two of them role playing. 

“Lets go in guns down, but ready. I don’t think the Count will start a war here and we can’t risk stray bullets hitting Wally,” Nigel said. He motioned with his fingers for the team to separate. He stayed where he was as the team moved back down the hallway to enter at the other two points into the room.

It gave him a few seconds to watch the Count draw circles at Wally’s hip and kiss his lips. The whole process was too delicate. It was too loving and wrong for someone who’d been kidnapped so violently. The second his team appeared, the girls at one entrance and Hoagie by himself at the other, he stepped into the room with his gun drawn.

The two didn’t notice the group closing in, not before the Count drew Wally onto his lap so the ex-team member was now the one straddling the vampire’s hips. The Count had drawing the straps of Wally’s robe down his shoulders, caught the back of his head and had his chin tilted. Nigel tried to close in, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop the vampire from piercing Wally’s throat. A single drop of blood rolled down Wally’s throat and continued down his pale back. He couldn’t ignore the way Wally’s breathe hitched. In the quiet of that space, he would forever remember the soft whine Wally made.

“Count, funny we’re in the same location again. Are you stalking me?” Nigel asked. His hand with the gun twitched and the vampire’s attention was drawn to it. 

The Count’s smirk was ruthless as he withdrew his fangs from Wally’s neck and gently guided the hitter to sit beside him on the wide pool chair. “Nigel, it is unfortunate, but this is purely coincidence. I would not willingly want to be in the same location as you and so openly flash what I now own and you do not.”

Wally quickly fixed the straps on the white toga and took the towel to dab at his neck. Blood stained the white, but his hitter didn’t wince in pain. Instead, he positioned himself so he could look at the Abby and Kuki behind them and Hoagie on the other side of the pool guarding the only other exit. 

“Who’s your special little friend, Count?” The bitterness seeped into his tone. He wasn’t sure what he expected, maybe something of recognition in Wally’s eyes. Instead, their hitter looked concerned that they were now trapped. 

The Count’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Mr. Uno, haven’t you heard what curiosity did to the cat? Spoiler, the cat dies at the end.”

“Who’s your friend?” Nigel repeated.

Wally whispered something under his breathe, and the Count reached back to cup his knee. Despite his anger, Nigel had to admit that for all the world, it looked like the vampire was comforting his hitter. And that comfort was against the team.

“Trust me, it will be easier for all of you if you let this go.” The Count answered. He stood, catching Wally by the arm and helping him to stand. Wally wobbled, and the Count placed a hand on his back to steady him. Blood loss? 

“What’s wrong with him? What did you do to him?” Nigel stepped forward and immediately stopped when Wally stepped back behind the Count.

“You can feel for yourself, he’s very much alive,” the Count said. Wally tried to pull back when Nigel closed the distance between them and reached for his arm. The Count kept a firm hold on the hitter’s forearm, forcing him to keep his hand out. “Now, now, Mister Beatles, no reason to behave so aggressively around these humans. He simply wants proof that you’re very much alive.”

Nigel slid his two fingers up the edge of Wally’s palm and to his wrist. He held him a second longer than needed, finding a flood of relief at the heartbeat and warmth. Wally was alive.

His best friend asked something in a language that wasn’t one of the seven Nigel could speak, and the Count answered back. Wally’s shoulders immediately relaxed, but he stayed close to the vampire. 

“He’s afraid you’re one of our enemies here to take him,” the Count explained. His dark eyes were nothing short of challenging. “I assured him that was not happening today, but you are the strangers with the guns and he doesn’t trust this situation or you.”

“Stockholm syndrome. Motherfucker!” Kuki growled.

“Can we just shoot the vampire and sort this out later?” Abby asked. Her gun clicked a second after Kuki’s. It was loud in the near silent space. 

The Count clicked his tongue. “You kill me and Wallabee won’t survive the winter, not with the sheer number of vampires out for his blood.”

Nigel ignored the comment. “Wally, you need to come with us. You can trust us.”

Wally didn’t move. This creature was… so familiar and yet exotic and uncharacteristically quiet. He’d never met the grown-up version of his hitter. He didn’t know how to adjust to his best friend’s current conduct.

The Count waited a fraction before a smile eased across his pale lips. “He can make his own decisions Nigel and they clearly do not involve you or your team in any way.”

“You think you’re a step ahead of us, that you’re so clever?” Nigel asked. He had extensive studies in psychology and manipulation. He took in every aspect of his target and adjusted to what he thought Wally would most likely trust; a very dominate and self-assured masculine figure. 

The Count frowned. “Actually no. I think my days are numbered and at any minute, so is Wallabee’s.”

“It’s not too late to make that agreement. I can protect Wally,” Nigel offered. Blueprints be damned, though he’d never admit to the agency that he forwent a trade on nuclear blueprints worldwide. He ached to walk over and grab Wally. He’d throw Wally over his shoulders and carry him out, if he had to.

“I’m sure you believe that, but I need your ties with the other organization; the Kids Next Door. Without them, giving you Wallabee is utterly out of the question,” the Count said. 

Wally turned to the Count and muttered under his breath. Though his words were foreign, it was apparent he wasn’t on board with this. The Count reached out and stroked his arm in comfort and Wally allowed it. 

Nigel stomped his jealousy before it could start. “What do you need with the Kids Next Door?”

Wally glared at him like a snake ready to strike. It broke his heart. 

“Their space headquarters, Nigel. Wallabee needs to be off this planet while I take care of a few loose ends, but if you think for a second I’ll just let him go—” The vampire’s pupils dilated, swallowing all color from his eyes.

Nigel dug his phone from his pocket. “Fine. I’ll get this set up right now.” 

“No. Right this second won’t work for either of us. I will call you when we are ready.” The Count said.

Wally grumbled, this time in English, accent heavy but understandable. “They’re kids. They aren’t equipped for anything on this scale. Neither are the CIA.”

Nigel’s brow lifted. He hadn’t realized Wally knew about his position with the CIA. 

The Count chuckled. “If I left it up to Wally, we’d burn this world to the ground. What can you really do with such a feisty mate, right Nigel? Keep your phone on. I’ll call you in the next couple of days and tell you where to meet us.”

In truth, he honestly didn’t care what happened to the vampire, but he’d be damned if he let anyone touched Wally. And Lord help him, because he really couldn’t stop thinking about the explicit things he wanted to do with Wally. And among those confusing and wayward thoughts lingered something romantic that made him want to grow old with his best friend.

“Count,” Nigel said the minute the vampire’s hand fell to Wally’s lower back, indicating they should start walking. The vampire looked curious, but not concerned. “When this is over, you’re still going to have to deal with me.”

The Count tsked his tongue. “Honestly, Nigel. Isn’t it apparent which one of us is the better master? Even if you did manage to kill me, something a handful of nests have yet to succeed in, you think Wallabee will automatically see you as his new master?”

“If you truly cared about him, you’d give him up before you chanced a rough night that will get him killed. You’ve lived a long time. Can you honestly say you haven’t killed your subs before?” Nigel asked.

The Count’s face darkened, but it didn’t compare to the way Wally’s gray eyes bore holes in him. It might not be as simple as knocking the vampire out of the running, but he would get Wally back. Wally turned when the Count again indicated they should leave. Nigel hated watching them pass through the hallway and out of sight. 

“I pray to God, the nest doesn’t kill him, so I can have that honor,” Nigel said. 

“Actually, I hope they kill each other,” Hoagie said. At their blank stares, he blushed and shrugged. “Look, we don’t know why these nests are dead-set on getting Wally. What if it’s something we really can’t protect him from? He’s not going to want to grow old up there on the space station where he’s three times the age of the people who are guarding him. Just saying.”

Nigel relented. Hoagie was right. If the Count didn’t manage to fix this, those vampires would still come after their ex-hitter. 

“He looked really good though, right?” Kuki asked. “I mean, really, really good. Like a lot more handsome then I ever thought he’d be.”

Abby mumbled in agreement. Nigel’s face went hot when the team turned to look at him.

“You heard the Count. Let’s be ready to receive Wally. I have phone calls to make.” He left the group standing, grateful no one followed him back through the maze of hallways. He really needed some time alone to think.


	8. Chapter 8

It was seven days, fourteen hours and thirty-five minutes on the dot when an unknown number rang on Nigel’s mobile. He answered it, expecting anyone at this point, but getting the Count. He should’ve felt relief, but he didn’t. The Count’s voice was low, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him. In Nigel’s heart, that “anyone” was probably Wally, who shouldn’t want to be with his captor in the first place. 

That’s how they ended up inside a five-star restaurant. He went over every entrance and exit with a fine-tooth comb, but he wasn’t sure the extent of their danger. The Count had given them very specific directions; to stay back until the Count broke the news to his beloved. This conversation was also three minutes too long, with instructions that made Nigel uncomfortable, like he was caring for a pet during a neighbor’s holiday. 

Nigel would have killed him on the spot had the conversation taken place in person. With more than a handful of hours to spare, he took his anger out on his running shoes, hitting the hotel gym until he walked a fine line between utter exhaustion and alertness. No one questioned his appearance once he got back to the hotel. He grabbed his clean clothes and took a long, hot shower. He felt a little more human when he emerged, but now, sitting in the restaurant, waiting, anger tightened his gut again.

“No destroying property that doesn’t belong to you.” Abby casually commented, plucking the fork from his hands. She dropped it on the table and fiddled with her non-alcoholic soda in a bar glass.

They had the perfect view of the entire restaurant from where they sat at the bar. The layout was open, the lighting bright and the orchestra music subtle. The tablecloths were eggshell white and vases with a single, fresh rose sat at the center of each table. Nigel couldn’t feign casualness. He could barely glance away from where Wally sat. He still couldn’t get used to this person he thought was dead. He hadn’t even allowed himself to picture what Wally might look like at this age. He never allowed himself to focus too long on the carefree way Wally would throw his head back and laugh.

This Wally was a stranger. His hair was much longer than his best friend would have ever allowed it to grow. He was lean too, opposite the athlete who constantly drank protein shakes and worked out to gain the muscle mass. This Wally took small, tentative sips at his wine glass. He was eating fish and sautéed veggies; using his napkin and politely drawing it back to his lap. He leaned ever so slightly inward when he responded to something the vampire said. He was conservative.

“I wish they’d hurry this along. I swear, it’s like he’s dragging this out.” Abby hissed under her breathe. Only her sharp exhale betrayed her anxiety. 

Nigel grunted in agreement. Wally was so close, but not close enough to truly protect if the Count went back on his word about handing him over. Every second left him more anxious until he was ready to slide off the barstool and go straight over to collect his package. And every time the waiter passed by, the Count would have the man pour more wine into Wally’s glass. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Count is trying to get Wally drunk.” Hoagie munched on a handful of peanuts. His attention flinted between the room, the bartender, his crew and back to Wally.

In fact, Wally had all their attention. Nigel tried looking away, not wanting Wally to casually glance up and catch the staring. He had a feeling they’d have enough to deal with the minute Wally realized the vampire was leaving him in his care. God, what a night to be sober. He should never have stopped trying to hunt the vampire down, but the creature disappeared and was impossible to track. 

“Vampires,” Nigel huffed under his breath. God. He really hated those blood sucking bastards. 

Abby tucked her mobile into her pantsuit pocket. “We have confirmation that the ship is approximately twenty kilometers south of here. As long as the weather stays stable there shouldn’t be an issue with takeoff. A medical crew will be waiting at Moon Base for Wally.” 

Nigel nodded. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the medical team at Moon Base analyzing Wally. When he’d been part of the team, he thought they were a wonderful asset, but now, this was a situation he thought was better suited for a mature medical team. What he wanted to know, he was sure he shouldn’t really expose that team to. 

“Finally! Let’s get this going. The faster we get him home, the quicker this can end.” Abby said.

Nigel looked up from his drink to see the vampire stand and reach for Wally’s hand. The ex-hitter wasn’t piss drunk, but he did lack that effortless, fluid ease in which he had entered the building earlier. It was that smile that killed Nigel. The Count didn’t deserve the admiration in Wally’s eyes. 

The vampire’s eyes held Nigel’s from across the room as he directed his best friend towards him. Wally’s chin was down, listening to the Count prattle on about something that made him smile and nod. He was unaware that the old team was even present. He didn’t realize that tonight was the night he’d be going with them. Wally was going to fight this.

This situation made Nigel sick. 

Wally looked up when they entered the bar and immediately stopped moving. There must have been a tug because the vampire also stopped, turning to address his ward. It wouldn’t work. Not without a fight. Nigel could see it the second Wally’s face went stony.

“Let’s go get him,” Nigel said. He was the first one over, barely catching the grumbled conversation in a language that didn’t adhere to any of the dialects he was familiar with in his worldly travels. It made him wonder the vampire’s true age.

The Count turned to address him the second Wally’s eyes darted to Nigel. Nigel couldn’t ignore that the Count kept a firm grip on Wally’s shoulder. 

“I trust everything is setup.” It wasn’t a question. The Count stared him down. 

Fuck. The vampire honestly had feelings for Wally, but he didn’t deserve the loyalty Wally returned. And that look in the Count’s eyes, like he would kill anyone who messed with his ward— 

“It is, but don’t think for a second that this is over between us, Count. How you’re currently feeling at this moment, this is how you left me when you took him all those years ago.” It was a confession he didn’t expect to make in front of his team, his ex-hitter, the vampire and a busy restaurant. However; the confession was true. 

Wally shifted, drawing both their attention and managing to disengage the tension with a snide comment that was again in a language only the Count could understand. The vampire chuckled, shrugged and took Wally’s chin to direct his mouth to a very chaste, but sincere kiss. Nigel didn’t realize he made a movement until Abby’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from stepping forward. He would do everything in his power to keep the vampire from coming back into Wally’s life.

“You will fight without me?” Wally said in English this time. He didn’t turn his back completely on them, but he held the conversation in such a fashion that no one else was invited into it.

The Count didn’t answer, and Wally jerked out of the vampire’s hold. Nigel stepped forward to stop him, but the vampire was quicker, catching Wally and holding him up against his lithe body. “My decision on this is final. You are not coming with me.” 

“You will pawn me off, then? I’m not going to sit around each night wondering if—” Wally dropped his eyes. He looked so lost. “If you’re going to come back.” 

“I can force you. It will be so quick. I’m giving you a chance to not have to deal with the side effects of that force.” The Count’s neutral tone was almost harsh.

Nigel wanted to step in again, to tell the Count he wouldn’t touch Wally, but Abby’s hand on his shoulder was a gentle reminder that they couldn’t interfere until the ball truly was in their court. Wally sighed in defeat and the Count turned his attention onto Nigel. There was no extended conversation or care instructions.

The vampire pulled out a ticket to the coat check and offered it up between his fingers. “Check the pockets of his coat before you let him put it on. He’s not defenseless.”

“Duly noted.” Nigel commented, taking the slip.

Wally stayed planted, watching as the Count walked through the restaurant and out the door. The second they were alone with him, Nigel inwardly cheered with relief. His patience won out. He had something back in his possession that he was so sure he had lost. 

Wally wasn’t so happy about being left behind. He pivoted back towards the bar and took the handful of steps that landed him onto a barstool. The bartender was already there, taking his order. 

Nigel put a quick stop to it. “You had enough to drink tonight.”

Wally’s dusty, blond eyebrow raised in challenge. His eyes were bright with his anger. “He might have left me with you, but you are not in charge of me.”

“I swear to God, Wally, I am not beyond carrying you over my shoulder and out that door if I have to. If you continue to disobey, I’ll treat you like the sub you are and spank you right here in front of all these people.” Nigel promised. It was a threat he’d never used on another adult, but he would never forget standing in that cell with the Count when the vampire had mentioned Wally was a submissive human being and needed a strong hand.

The bartender lingered a second longer before realizing this domestic dispute didn’t need a third party. He hustled off to his other patrons. Wally’s glare went from challenging to outright hostility. This was getting ridiculous. He must have realized it wasn’t an empty threat because he slid off the seat, took a second to pull at his clothes, though the fabric didn’t need adjusting, then with shoulders back, he walked right past Kuki and Hoagie towards Abby who held his coat. 

 

oOo

 

Wally tapered down the apprehension that threatened to kill any last remanence of logic he desperately needed. Part of that haze came from the wine. Damn. He should’ve seen this coming. How long would the Count drag him around when every corner they turned had them trapped. Still… he felt abandoned. Everything inside him ached.

His old team fell in step around him and that made the truth of his situation worse. They weren’t going to let him go. He knew it in his heart. How long would it take them to realize he didn’t belong with the humans anymore? He didn’t even know how to properly transverse with the species. He was used to the darkness. To one single friend and nature.

Hoagie lost weight. It looked good on him. He kept the wielder googles on his head like a headband. His mousy-brown hair poked out around the googles, short and spiky. His eyes were still kind and calculating, like a scientist who saw puzzles in every aspect of the world. 

Kuki’s very naïve, casual nature had been replaced by a woman with purpose. Her hair was held up in a ponytail, out of her face. There was no swing in her step. She carried guns. He could tell by the way she kept her coat unzipped and the way she held her arms. When did she hand in her Rainbow Monkeys in exchange for weapons? He’d missed that part of her life.

Abby still had a swag to her walk. Gone was the tomboy braid. She wore her hair long with soft curls. Her clothes were far chicer and fitted. Despite the change, she still had an air of authority that begged for someone to try and fuck with her. She’d show them their place. The hardness was carefully hidden, but he could still see it in the way she watched the room. 

Nigel though….

Nigel made his heart quicken. Despite himself, that was one aspect he hadn’t expected. When he’d seen the man back at the bathhouse, he knew the Count could hear the shift in his pulse. Nigel was tall and lithe. The way his clothes fit foretold a very fit body underneath. There’d been no quiver in his hand when he pointed his gun at them. He was dominant, and his confidence was astonishing. 

Fuck. 

This whole situation messed with his brain. He couldn’t continue in this peculiar space of thought. 

Wally straightened his jacket. He needed something to do with his hands while he thought about his exit strategy. He’d been out of the operative business a long time, but he knew a stance when he saw one and the team had him flanked. Despite the cold, he was feeling rather hot due to this unprecedented situation. 

Wally fought the desire to fidget. His nerves were getting the upper hand. He didn’t know how to deal with humans and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to. What he wanted was to crawl into bed with the Count. He wanted to be comforted by Kostya and his mouth on his skin. “I can’t go back with you.”

Nigel looked exhausted. “Wally, this isn’t up for discussion and even if it were, your opinion warrants no sway in this decision. I hope you realize in due time that what happened to you has psychologically messed with your ability to see your current reality.”

Wally’s heart quickened. The way his ex-leader’s eyes narrowed, it was almost as though he had a sixth sense and knew what this strange proximity was doing to him. “So what are you thinking, a little psychotherapy and I’ll be cured? A little religion maybe—”

“Hate to interrupt this happy reunion, but we have some questionable company heading our way,” Abby said.

Wally turned in the direction Abby was staring, but his wrist was caught in Nigel’s solid grip as the ex-leader forcefully tugged down a back alley. Nigel stood so close to him, forcing him back against the wall. He was aware of ex-leader’s body and that made his breathe hitch. He thought, for a second, with the surrounding voices that maybe the taller man hadn’t heard him, but Nigel zeroed in on him, staring so intently that Wally turned away first. 

God. This wouldn’t work. Why did he feel anything at all for this man he’d seen in a different lifetime? “If they are sent from the nest, you won’t be able to fight them. They’re too strong.”

“I can protect you, Wally. I’ll keep proving it to you until it sinks into that thick skull of yours.” He leaned in so close. His breath warm against the shell of Wally’s ear. “I’m not going to let them take you.”

Heat rushed to Wally’s face. His breath hitched again and this close, he knew Nigel could feel what that promise did to him. He hated the heat that rushed to his cheeks. “I’m not a welting flower, Nigel. I can take care of myself. I need to get back to my master.”

Nigel huffed, but barely moved to give him space. His ex-leader stared at him so intimately, his eyes taking everything in. “Vampires?”

“Confirmed,” Abby said. The crew was pulling their weapons and adding attachments. 

“You’re not equipped to deal with vampires.” Wally nudged at Nigel, expecting to move his ex-boss, but the man was pretty solid on his feet and didn’t budge. He also seemed to ignore him.

“Hoagie, take Wally and get to the car.” Nigel ordered, pushing Wally towards the technician. “And if he causes you any trouble, do what we talked about.”

His feet nearly slid on the icy pavement, but Hoagie caught him. He jerked out of his hands and straightened his clothes. Honestly, did they think a technician could protect him? But before he could even ponder on it, Hoagie pulled out a massive, silver, futuristic looking gun. He pressed a button and the thing hummed like a generator. 

“Come on,” he said, pulling Wally along beside him. 

And he was following… but only because he was curious, not because he actually was going to let Hoagie, of all people, drag him back to a civilization he hadn’t been a part of for nearly a decade plus years. And in a very strange, way, Hoagie for the world, looked like he had every intention of protecting him. Even stranger, the technician actually looked trained in combat. 

“What does this do, anyway?” Wally asked. He glanced over his shoulder to see the others with their back against the wall, waiting. Guilt tightened in his stomach. There wasn’t much else he could warn them about. And he was torn. If they died, he’d be free, but he didn’t want them dead. And for the life of him, something in Nigel’s dark promise really left him on edge; an edge that only Kostya should’ve brought him to. 

“Think of a very bad sunburn,” Hoagie answered. The thing in his hand was weird and looked like a metal flower at the tip. 

Wally rolled his eyes. There was a possibility that the lackies tracking them were human. Not everyone the nest sent were vampires, which meant, either way, he’d be the one stuck protecting Hoagie. “Give me the keys.”

Hoagie stopped in front of a van and turned to look at him, confused. “I don’t think so. I really want to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you’ve been gone a long time and I don’t know what your morals are anymore.” 

Wally huffed, testing the water. “You have the weapon hotshot. I’m just going to drive the car, we can swing back around so you can help your friends.”

Hoagie frowned. “My friends? I would take your offer if you were still the Wally I grew up with, but you have to understand that our current situation isn’t normal. I don’t know you anymore. Your values are different. Jesus, Wally, you want to go back to the creature that abducted you. That’s…. that’s just really beyond my comprehension.”

Despite his racing heart, the chill weather was starting to make his face ache. “What about your morals? You’d abducting me against my will. I don’t want to go with you.”

Hoagie sighed as he held the gun with one hand and pulled silver cuffs from his pocket. “I’m truly sorry about all this, but you’re going to have to turn around and put your arms behind your back.”

“You can’t be serious. Jesus. Are you serious? You’re going to cuff me like a criminal?” Wally took a step back. The slick pavement and snow would work against a quick retreat, but he was sure he had one up on Hoagie with endurance and the pure adrenaline shooting through his system.

Hoagie’s frown deepened. “I’m not going to warn you again. Don’t try to run from this.”

Wally took another step back. “Or what? You’ll turn that contraption you made for vampires on me? I’m not a vampire, Hoagie. Do you have a better plan?”

Hoagie rolled back his sleeve to expose the metal contraction connected to his arm like a wrist cuff. “Yes, actually. I always come prepared. Last warning, Wally, turn around so I can get the cuffs on you.” 

A thrill rushed up Wally’s spine, completely surprising him. He brushed it to the back of his mind because he knew his body was reacting to the assertiveness and he refused to give in. “No.”

Hoagie sighed and clicked a mechanism on the wrist cuff. Wally caught the blur of something small shooting from the metal plate before he felt the pinch at his neck. He pulled the needle thin dart from his skin. 

“You… you drugged me.” The words were hard to form. His tongue felt too heavy. 

Hands wrapped around his waist. He wanted to push Hoagie away but couldn’t. His body wouldn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry, Wally. I did warn you by any means, I was taking you in.” Hoagie sounded remorseful. 

 

oOo

 

Nigel came around the corner, exhausted and aching. He expected the van to be gone. Instead, Hoagie sat on the snowy ground with Wally up against his chest. 

Nigel scooped his sleeping friend out of Hoagie’s arms and though Wally was lean, his deadweight made him difficult to balance. “This would’ve been easier on all of us if you just got in the van, kid.” 

He knew this would be the outcome the second he sent Wally with Hoagie. He knew Wally would press his luck and try to dominate the situation. It’d been his initial idea that everyone carried tranquilizers, so they wouldn’t have to physically hurt Wally to make him comply. 

“One thing hasn’t changed, he’s still a stubborn S.O.B.,” Hoagie said, pulling the side door open so Nigel could get in with his charge. “I’m sorry Nigel. I really tried, but he really doesn’t want to come with us. He’s loyal to a fault.”

“Too bad it’s for the wrong team,” Abby said under her breathe. 

The drive was hardly comfortable. The seats weren’t wide enough to really position a boneless Wally up against him. He liked having his ex-hitter’s head on his shoulder though. He wished there were a few less layers between them so he could feel Wally’s warmth and return the favor. Jealousy threatened to rip him apart at the thought of intimacy between the vampire and Wally.

Without the radio on, the drive was silent. Nigel’s thoughts kept zeroing in on how good it felt wrapping his arms around Wally and how much he liked the weight of his friend against him. He brushed a lose strand of hair away from Wally’s face, tucking it behind his ear. When he looked up, he saw Kuki and Abby watching him. 

The ship was waiting by the time they drove into the abandoned lot. The girls got out and Nigel took his time gathering Wally into his arms. This might be the only time he actually had to hold his best friend, so he marveled at every second of it. Despite the pale lighting, with Wally’s head resting haphazardly against Nigel’s shoulder, he tried to glimpse any telltale sign of bite scars. There were none. 

“Don’t worry about anything down here. We’ll keep you informed if something goes awry,” Abby promised.

It would have to do. With a little help from Hoagie, they managed to get Wally into the passenger seat and strapped in. He looked utterly defenseless, angelic with the way the strange moonlight glowed between the snow. His dark lashes rested against the curve of his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted in his sleep. He looked younger like this, and almost vulnerable. But even awake, that vulnerability followed him like an aura. 

How internally scarred was he from his deadly addiction?

His crew stood back towards the van as he strapped in and the glass shield closed the interior ship from the rest of the world. The lights from the switchboard glowed and the two operatives controlling the spacecraft checked in with the station. He reached over and placed his hand on top of Wally’s for a brief second before pulling back to his own arm rest. It was critical that he be in proper take-off mode. 

The cabin was thrown into darkness as they thrust off the earth’s surface. Even the chaos of takeoff didn’t still his racing thoughts. He had Wally. This should be over, but he knew it wouldn’t be unless Wally was in the right frame of mind. He listened to the chatter over the headphones as the cabin pressure eased and he could breathe without feeling the compression on his chest.

He didn’t expect Wally to sleep through the entire trip, including the second they came into the Moon Base landing pad. The second the cover opened and the air rushed in, the operatives unbuckled their straps.

“Everything good Agent Uno? Do you need any help with your charge?” The blond kid asked. He strangely looked too much like Wally when Wally had been a kid.

Nigel threw him a halfhearted smile as he finished unstrapping Wally. “Everything is good. Thank you.”

Now that his adrenaline was settling, a bone deep coldness set in. He needed a hot shower, dry clothes and something warm to drink. He pulled Wally from his seat and was grateful for the steps that had been placed so he could carry Wally down. It’d been so long since he’d last been at Moon Base and to his surprise a small group had gathered along with the current leadership. 

“Nigel,” Numbuh 1044 stood without her war gear. Apparently, she felt no threat from them. She handed him a badge. Her eyes drifted to the man in his arms and blushed. He knew that sentiment exactly. “I have clothes, food and a room setup. Our medical staff is waiting.”

“I appreciate your hospitality on such short notice. Could you please send the oldest person on your medical team to the room?” He followed her down the hall, feeling a little strange that so many more kids waited in the hall, many with their phones out to snap photos. It wasn’t ideal, and he suspected Wally would be really pissed about this later.

“Yes, of course.” Her eyes went from Nigel to Wally, as if she understood what he was really concerned about. 

It was embarrassing to think that some of the kids already understood the complications that come with maturity. Despite the age difference, he had to remind himself that not everyone was super young. Sex education classes started in the fourth grade. 

They moved from the hallway into an elevator that took them underground. He’d been in this exact elevator a million times, but today it felt so odd. He remembered it being more exciting. None of it interested him now.

“Do you want our medic to give him another sedative while he’s with you?” She asked in the quiet. 

Nigel glanced down at his ex-hitter. A sedative would allow the medic to do the examination without an overly anxious Wally trying to detour it. “It would be preferable if he weren’t awake during the exam. I’d like it to be extensive.”

The elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor down, exposing a white tile flooring and tan walls. The place was bland with numerous doors and thick glass windows. This was where they kept the villains. 

She stuck her key in the door closest to the elevator and held it open for him. He walked into the rather unadorned room with bunk beds and sat Wally down. His shoulders ached from carrying his ex-hitter for so long. He didn’t start to undress Wally until she shut the door. Stripping someone while they slept was hard and something he’d never had to do before. 

He examined the very old puncture marks at his best friend’s neck. The scars were barely the size of a pinhead and so small that they could easily be overlooked. He checked Wally’s arms, chest, sides and back. There was no proof he was someone’s meat market express. He fiddled with Wally’s pants, grateful that his friend was asleep, but the guilt remained strong. He had to know though. 

He pulled Wally’s shoes and socks off, both wet from the snow, then messed with his zipper. This would’ve been easier with someone holding Wally up. He managed to get both his jeans and boxers down and started checking his long legs; skin cold from the wetness. He glanced at Wally’s neatly trimmed, blond bush of hair and flaccid penis with more than mild curiosity. He wished Wally was naked under him for a more pleasant reason.

His heart jumped into his throat at the click of the door. Nigel threw the blanket over Wally’s hips and spun to meet the medic at the door. It was a young boy, maybe on the cusp of twelve. His black hair was combed down the middle and he wore glasses and a lab coat. He carried a leather bag that probably held his equipment, and a clipboard in his other hand. Not a ghost of a smile crossed his features. 

“Nigel Uno I presume?” He set his bag on the ground and crossed over to Wally. Nigel wasn’t sure the boy even heard his answer as he went about with the usual medical routine. Finally, he straightened and faced Nigel. “I heard you wanted an extensive examination?”

“I want to make sure he’s okay,” Nigel answered.

The young boy motioned for Nigel to step out of the room. “He might need another sedative before you do anything.”

“I have already been warned about his skillsets,” the young boy said.

Nigel hesitated at first, then decided to go. Time dragged as he waited in the hallway. Not having a special Moon Base mobile phone left him with no service. He couldn’t check in with anyone. Just as the weight of his situation started to pull at his conscious, the door opened and the young boy came out. 

The kid pushed his glasses up his nose and eyed Nigel. “I assume you were interested in knowing how far the abuse went with Numbuh Four’s captivity. It doesn’t appear as though he’s ever been sexually violated. There are numerous bites at the junction between his legs. I am sending his blood tests to the lab to make sure he’s not anemic and that there are no deficiencies. His pulse is fine. His lungs are clear.”

“Thank you.” Nigel said. 

The young boy nodded. “I left some dry clothes in the room. I will give you the results as soon as they are in.”

 

oOo

 

Wally clawed his way to consciousness. It took a second to realize that the soft blue light wasn’t the result of his blurred vision. He pulled at the sheet covering his chest and everything snapped into place. He dropped his head back against the pillow, staring at the underside of the bed above him. “You did it. You actually brought me to the Moon Base.”

“It’s what the vampire requested.” Nigel’s tone wasn’t the least bit groggy, which meant the CIA agent hadn’t been sleeping.

Wally rolled onto his side and instantly felt nauseous. He gritted his teeth until the sickness eased. He’d be damned if he bitched about it. “You want me to believe you’d help him?”

There was a long moment of silence. Not even a sigh. Nigel’s feet swung over the side of the bed and he jumped down. He walked over to the sink, wetted a washcloth and squeezed it out. Wally wanted to warn him against approaching, but the nausea left him nearly breathless. 

Nigel came back to the bed, kneeled down and placed the cool, wet rag over his forehead. “You’re right. I’m not doing this for him. I have no sympathy for his situation and I am so bloody pissed he dragged you from one shit-storm to the next.”

Wally blamed the nausea and the remnants of the tranquilizer for not immediately shoving Nigel’s hand off his shoulder. In truth, the warm weight was surprisingly nice. Kostya was never warm, not even after feeding. He closed his eyes to escape the concern he saw in his ex-leader’s eyes. “This shouldn’t have happened. You never should’ve been told.”

“You’d have me live my entire life thinking I’m the one that got you killed?” Nigel asked. 

The hurt in his voice tore at Wally’s heart. This was all wrong. He shouldn’t be laying in a room with his ex-leader trying to comfort him. He shouldn’t be remembering the way Nigel kissed him back in the bathroom when he’d been having visions. That was a different world. He left that world behind. All that his world consisted of now was Kostya. 

Wally gave a wavering smirk. “You don’t owe me anything, Nigel. You were never responsible for me. I’m the one that destroyed the Villain Award Ceremony. I’m the one that jumped onboard with the drug in order to catch the Count. I’m the one who—”

_—became addicted to the vampire’s venom_

It didn’t feel like the right time to be having this conversation. 

“Wally, you were my best friend. I really liked you. Still do, but I don’t know what this is because it still feels like those feelings I had in high school. It never had a chance to grow or dissipate.” 

Wally stared hard at Nigel’s chest. “I’m feeling a little confused too, but this isn’t going to work Nigel, because you’re with the CIA and I’m…. I’m a little preoccupied with other things.”

“I’m not going to let this go, Wally. I’m not going to let you go. He got in your head and none of us were prepared for him to take it this far,” Nigel said. 

Wally licked his lips, nervous. It wasn’t that easy. He couldn’t stop being dependent on Kostya.


End file.
